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  1. December

In the winter of 98, I moved Montreal to sit in coffee shops and write a book.  I had heard of Quebec winters and the howling North wind.  That winter, they were selling Christmas trees in the rain outside the metro station.  It seemed Vancouver had followed me East.  Perhaps it was just a meteorological metaphor for the work that seemed unable to begin.

Lyrics

 
 
December
 
it’s trying to be December
but it’s raining like September
something’s happened to the weather
it just can’t pull itself together and get cold
 
the geese all seem to stick around
and drag their wings on the muddy ground
St. Viateur rings wedding bells
while St. Joseph sells candles for the dead and gone
 
you can feel it all on Mont Royale
swinging like a wrecking ball
but it’s just the wind come again
and the cross shakes like a weathervane at night
 
this is the in-between time
before the driving snow
it seems the whole wide world is waiting
for something big to let go
 
the cemetery’s crowded
and shining like an oyster bed
our bodies drifting closer
want to be together when the tide rolls in
when the tide rolls in
 
this is the in-between time
before the driving snow
it seems the whole wide world is waiting
for something big to let go 2X