Lyrics

STICK SEASON
(Rick Lugg)

The grey pokes through the old pine trees
And all the others have shed their leaves
The storm windows are painted and up
The wood is stacked & split & cut
Here it comes, here it comes

In the little town where I come from
The neighbors rush to get the work all done
Mulch the garden, rake the leaves
One eye on what the sky foresees
Here it comes, here it comes

We buried Ma
About three weeks ago
I'm glad she went
Before it turned to snow
To die in color
That's the only way to go
She was ready
I guess she had to know
Here it comes, here it comes

It's the first November afternoon
And we ain't ready none too soon
There's a long white stretch of time ahead
When the earth replies to what the sky has said
Here it comes, here it comes
Here it comes, here it comes
Here it comes, here it comes

CREDITS
Rick Lugg (vocals, acoustic guitar)
Roy D'Innocenzo (acoustic slide guitar)
Rick Pollak (piano)
Dan Morrissey (acoustic bass)
Mitch Simon (drums)

Produced by Rick Lugg & Gerry Putnam

Recorded, mixed & mastered by Gerry Putnam
CedarHouse Sound & Mastering, North Sutton, NH
(c) 2021 Richard Lugg/Subscale Records LLC