November

The days are long and empty
 The nights are cold and bare
 The morning's like a dagger
 Slicing through me
 I go through all the motions
 But I just can't seem to care
 I'm just pushing through each day
 And November is oh, so very, very far away
 I'd count the days and hours
 But numbers aren't my thing
 Neither are cards and flowers
 I must confess
 I call you twice a day but
 Ten minutes is too short
 For a hundred things to say
 And November is oh, so very, very far away
 Yes, November is so very, very far away
 Yeah, November is so very, very far away
 Sleep well, do you dream of me?
 I dream of you, a hundred times a day.
 Sleep well, do you dream of me?
 I dream of you, a hundred times a day.