Sad November
And I don’t feel like dancing
Tie up the maypole
Wind will tangle with chains
Park is empty
And all the loose ends flying
No love to hide
And I don’t feel like games
I see that funny smile
Written on your face
The pieces flying
Like a morning paper-chase
Paper chase
I watch them slowly drifting down
And they’re all out of place
And I could never rebuild them now
To the smile on a face
I have no mind
For brush or paints
Sad December
And I don’t feel like painting
With only charcoal
And I need colour-chains
I see that funny smile
Written on your face
The pieces flying
Like a morning paper-chase
I follow them
Like footprints
And I try to retrace
And like a blind man, seeking miracles
And in my stumbling pace
I feel to find your hiding place

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.