no proper time of day

we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire
the light reflects quite bright from the white walls
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar

the music's best when there's no booming choir
to test the dim acoustics of the halls
we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire

there is a seller but there is no buyer
the market without reciprocity just stalls
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar

thomas hood's poem will not raise my ire
all pleasure in november simply palls
we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire

dead leaves we'll pile up into a huge pyre
most loathed and hated of the times windfalls
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar

who joys in this bleak time is a denier
of any who for warmth and pleasure calls
we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar