Old brown tape in a plastic shell
A story that the winters tell
Left on a seat of velvet red
Where the ghost of a song is fed
The wind kicks up a frozen haze
Counting down the shorter days
Tangled lines in the apple grove
Where the winter spirits rove
Spinning round in the heavy white
Hiding from the coming night
Snow piles high on the orchard wall
Waiting for the fruit to fall
A driver knows when the road is gone
And the cold holds the light till dawn
The wind kicks up a frozen haze
Counting down the shorter days
Tangled lines in the apple grove
Where the winter spirits rove
Spinning round in the heavy white
Hiding from the coming night
Magnetic strips and a rusty gear
Holding on to a vanished year
The tape is thin and the sound is low
Like a fire buried in the snow
Toss a coin for a lonely ride
Nowhere left for the truth to hide
The engine hums a heavy tune
Underneath a frozen moon
Tangled lines in the apple grove
Where the winter spirits rove
Spinning round in the heavy white
Hiding from the coming night
The dusk is grey and the air is still
A broken reel on a lonely hill
The driver turns and he shuts the door
He don't drive that old road no more
Tangled lines in the apple grove
Where the winter spirits rove
Spinning round in the heavy white
Hiding from the coming night
The plastic ribbon spins slow.
Let the winter wind blow.
