Wild Turkey Records

"Music. Fresh From The Hudson Valley"

Winter Morning

No heat will rise from the valley this winter morning
Mist and smoke hang like a fog of a dream, slow to leave
A consciousness being shooken from an eye

Spinning wheels, smoking house
Air from the north moves to the south
And with the breath of life we kiss the mouth
This winter morning

Ice encloses, clamped down shut like
Icy fingers on nails that grew too long since they’ve been cut
Razor sharp, they hang like laughing knives
As if to say “beware you fools”
‘Cause death is just a few degrees away

Spinning wheels, smoking house
Air from the north moves to the south
And with the breath of life we kiss the mouth
This winter morning

Evergreens begin to sway
but bow their branches low, away
Dare not speak
or disrupt the peace
This winter morning

As I look around, surveying all in my name
But I get the feeling I own nothing
This winter morning
I own nothing
This winter morning

Spinning wheels, smoking house
Air from the north moves to the south
And with the breath of life we kiss the mouth
This winter morning