Our souls are fallen and the skies adapt to our faces
And the clouds let out rain when we cry
This month is bad for everyone
And no one really wants to try

There isn't much good about November
Maybe Thanksgiving, if you like that kind of thing
But it's the same old people and same old food
All wondering what kind of pie to bring

I'm so sick of this month
There's only really one good thing about it
But even that is usually not so much
Maybe it's two years too many or two years is enough

Can this year just be over
So everything can reset
With red hair and not so bright blue eyes
And not a single person I've ever met