Lyric Excerpt - Winter

Winter is not dead
It bows its humble head covered in Vologda lace

The people live in this place
They wonder why it happens
In all their doing and undoing some forget to ask,

“Why” and “what for?” and “Who am I really? 
Am I God's geometry or just the devil's comedy?”

Well, in the end there is such stillness
In the end there is such stillness
As a spinning spoke must always come to rest
In the end there is such stillness 

I’m a jumping bean at the stove
You're a song at the piano
We're a wisp of white exhale in the churning wind
I'm a jumping bean at I froze
You're a song at the embers glow
We're a wisp of white exhale in the charcoal wind 

Your nose is cold to the touch and pink like a transparent rose,
a watercolor of winter's hand

Albert Camus says we avoid, as much as we can,
that our lives might be absurd

Everybody wants to live their dream
with meaning and happiness
I know I do

But in the end there is such stillness
In the end there is such stillness
As a spinning spoke must always come to rest
In the end there is such stillness



Craving synesthesia?
Watch the Winter video here, shot in a snowstorm in Boston’s Arnold Arboretum
or listen to it on Spotify