Oh November.
Oh now. Oh wow. Oh how?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Barely conscious in the doorway you stand
Your eyes are fighting sleep while your mouth makes your demand
You laugh at every word trying hard to be cute
I almost feel sorry for what I’m gonna do
and your hair smells of smoke
Who will cast the first stone?
You can sin or spend the night all alone
Oh Brand New.
