The Final Act: The End of Winter

Updated: Feb 17


diamonds hadder john evermore light black studios los angeles

(image Info: My Sundays best.)


Good morning, it’s almost spring. A lot of music is in the air.


A quick little post today is all, to share some lyrics for a new song I've been working called "Kind Winters" for the Ramsay/Evermore record. It originally had a working title of "Night of the Witch, but as soon as I hit record.... well... that's what happens. You might have noticed those words in one of my posts last week. Shortly after the words came out of my mouth I began to imagine a song with that title. One moonlit night a week ago a poem was born and so that witch became "Kind Winters". Early Saturday morning I completed the "Headless Cross" vocal takes and opened up this new Ramsay track and starting singing... and boom..... a lot of wonderful things happened and so... I imagine a day or two more of singing and that will be done and ready for the website playlist.

I might go wander around some Sand Dunes out by death valley for a quick impromptu video for the track.... it's that kind of song.

I'll keep it brief today... just wanted to share the original poem for "Kind Winters" and some of the "Headless Cross" vocal takes, played along to some of my favorite Kung Fu video. (below)

Farewell.

-j


Some random video to some vocal takes for "Headless Cross", Unmixed and unproduced. Enjoy more of the process.


Kind Winters by J evermore


The sand it runs under devils breath

As time she slips today

It never stops.. oh the more it drops

The farther we drift away


Oh the Things we lose

As life it breaks and splinters

And the best we could hope for

Is kind winters

Kind Winters


The clock it rounds the twisted bend

12 past the hour or so.... and then

The spring it brakes as winter takes

But somewhere… there's still hope


Oh such bitter truths

As the rose it dies and withers

And the best we could hope for

Is kind winters

Kind Winters


Day into night they clip our wings small tasks for scissor kings Who sit atop the curtains draw The masters that played us all


And hope she sits on the windowsill

a wooden cat watching the play

It doesn’t move but all too soon

It tumbles too and it breaks away


And the best we could hope for

Is kind Winters


Give me Kind... Winters

Give me Kind... Winters