the.gold.standard

“January Hymn,” The Decemberists

On a winter’s Sunday I go
To clear away the snow,
And green the ground below;
April all an ocean away,
Is this the better way to spend the day,
Keeping the winter at bay?

What were the words I meant to say before you left,
When I could see your breath lead where you were going to?
Maybe I should just let it be,
And maybe it will all come back to me;
Sing, O January, O

How I lived a childhood in snow,
And all my teens in tow,
Stuffed in strata of clothes;
Pale the winter days after dark,
Wandering the gray memorial park.
A fleeting beating of hearts.

What were the words I meant to say before she left,
When I could see her breath lead where she was going to?
Maybe I should just let it be
And maybe it will all come back to me
Sing, O January, O