November Nights

This thing's, uh, sort of a Bachian thing

It's really—, you have to, have to really listen to the phrasing of it because it's really wild

You say that you're restless

You say that you know me too well

You've seen all my best

And you've heard all the stories I tell

You think you've been taken for granted, you're probably right

Still I remember a November night

When the dawn on your doorway shone white with frost

And the soft love that always began with the touch of your hand

And recall the mornings that tossed your hair in the wind

Time's made it meaningless, I'm insecure, you can tell

But why am I leaving unless time had only meant well?

There's nothing left now to excite you, no reason to try

Still I remember a candlelit sky

And the summer surrounding the ground where you and I lay

And though we were always alone with our secrets known

We both were aware and afraid our closeness might end

My love's like a dancer, she weaves through the danger complete

Her well rehearsed answers with rational reasons for feet

And if it decreases or ceases to always seem right

I'll just remember a November Night

When the dawn on your doorway shone white with frost

And the soft love that always began with the touch of your hand

And recall the mornings that tossed your hair in the wind