November Songtext
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My friend is tracking his personal ratio of humanity to the divine
It's held steady at infinity for a month or two now, in spite of all his trying
To suppress it, or correct it, with those temporary tattoos
The prayers keep falling off his skin, the wolves just eat the moons
He has to try and amputate, that'll do it, he remembers
You seeming to imply that course when you saw him in November
There's a panther crooning Virgil at the gates of the Emerald City
He'd kill the guards and storm the place but his singing is too pretty
It's held steady at infinity for a month or two now, in spite of all his trying
To suppress it, or correct it, with those temporary tattoos
The prayers keep falling off his skin, the wolves just eat the moons
He has to try and amputate, that'll do it, he remembers
You seeming to imply that course when you saw him in November
There's a panther crooning Virgil at the gates of the Emerald City
He'd kill the guards and storm the place but his singing is too pretty
We're in Sonora sitting around a napkin holder in the Serbian Christmas Cafe
Listening to the broadcast beamed through the glowy desert rain
We're waiting for him to trail off, to hear the city burned to embers,
To hear that messenger manifest his heavenly November
Philomene sits and dreams of holodecks filled with nightingales in flight
Electrons on their tongues their voices banded through with light
She is lovely, sweet and stranded, like a balsam in the snow
A revolver in her off hand like a silhouetted gull
I love her but she talks too much, so I'm flying home to Denver
I have to drink out all the things I heard about your trip there in November
Listening to the broadcast beamed through the glowy desert rain
We're waiting for him to trail off, to hear the city burned to embers,
To hear that messenger manifest his heavenly November
Philomene sits and dreams of holodecks filled with nightingales in flight
Electrons on their tongues their voices banded through with light
She is lovely, sweet and stranded, like a balsam in the snow
A revolver in her off hand like a silhouetted gull
I love her but she talks too much, so I'm flying home to Denver
I have to drink out all the things I heard about your trip there in November
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