The era until
Early November, guess I could tend her
The gnawing and eating away at my beating
Heart and brain the two polar opposites
Unsupportable diposits
Walking through the veins of big city weekend
The wound in my weak hand
I reach and fondle at the mysterious door
I know what’s inside it but not what it’s for
I serve them the cold things
And they give me the big kings
I have a hundred dollars but I’m still in my bed
Drink til I can finally sleep until I’m solid and dead
Wake up again with an inch of my hair longer
Wake up again with the first of November
