November
Jami Rekola
Hey little darling, the sun doesn’t come today
No promise of winter, autumn leaves have gone away
Gray is the weather, serotonin antagonist
The food is from the freezer, no more harvest from the forest
Hugging rain endlessly, is washing away your sanity
The outlook is profanity, overwhelmed is the plea
Thousand days of your life, though they feel like a lifetime
A lifetime to understand, your motherland has a losing hand
