November - Christopher Cross, Cross, Christopher

Moth on the windowpane

Could be alive or dead

You across the room lost in your head

All that’s left is the storm outside

Water beating stone

And we hang in a web of stillness all our own

Two hearts

Bundled to the cold

Closed eyes

Watching love grow old

Dear friend

Can it really be November

Season of goodbye

Under an angry topaz sky

Neap tide and a waning moon gone mad

Like a song I heard as a little boy

That I did not understand

But somehow I knew it was sad

Two hearts

Bundled to the cold

Closed eyes

Watching love grow old

Oh, dear friend

Can it really be November

Time wills

Oh, and time kills

Bare trees won’t remember, ooh

Two hearts

In the failing light

No blame

Doing what seems right

But the rain won’t stop

Can it really be