October
(C. Duck Anderson)
October, October
She thinks that life is what you do while you're waiting to die
No skeletons in her closet they're all in public eye
Just like the children out hustlin' on Halloween night
But she can do it all even the dead man's crawl
Spider lashes and the scent of Fall
Her skin shines like the Moon so high
But her mind can be as dark as an overcast sky
Her hair falls like leaves of red, brown, and gold
Hers is one conversation that should never have been told
Poison is her perfume and her posture's like a penanced priest
She's pickin' up the poppies and blowin' them at me
She's skating on a skinny sheet of ice across Superior
Where life can easily become a hundred feet more deep
We're characters in each other's mythologies
Even though we share the same ideologies
And as she comes to a close her words will be froze
As November takes over and the cold wind blows
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