Winter Will

I'll smear his name, while you defend
A season that's indecent

I am always writing about the seasons. Their inevitability prompts comfort and dread. If you met winter at a party, you might not want to talk to it. You'd think to yourself, "what a prick, this winter is". New England winters are mountains to scale and they make my mind into a precarious avalanche looming over an unsuspecting hiker.

Production notes:
This was written for a Christmas/Winter compilation that Jon Solomon meant to put out in, I don't know, 2000 or so., but never did - too bad. I don't know if he accepted it or not, but I sure enjoyed writing it. It was another chilly song written in stifling attic apartment heat. Djim played a charming banjo part on this and I played his classical guitar in a most unclassical way. There are at least 3 other versions of this song around my house - I will try to dig those out for comparison.

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