Black coffee in a heavy white cup
Wait for the winter sun to wake up
Slinging the hash on a flat metal grill
While the air in the valley stays still
Old copper rooster on a high pine beam
Frozen in place like a mid-winter dream
Watching the orchard turn ghostly and white
Holding his breath for the coming of night
Turn me around to the north and the west
Let the cold wind put my spirit to test
Spinning in circles above the white snow
Waiting for somewhere the wild things go
Regulars sitting in the corner booth
Telling the lies and avoiding the truth
Grease on the apron and salt on the floor
Checking the lock on the heavy front door
Turn me around to the north and the west
Let the cold wind put my spirit to test
Spinning in circles above the white snow
Waiting for somewhere the wild things go
The cider is sour the apples are gone
The frost on the window is holding the dawn
Break every chain that is tying me down
Far from the noise of this sleepy old town
Silver bark peeling on the apple tree line
Counting the hours and marking the time
Cold metal shivering high in the breeze
Swaying along with the frozen oak trees
Wiping the counter with a damp yellow rag
Heavy old spirit like a worn-out grey flag
Looking out far where the horizon is blue
Looking for something that feels kind of new
Turn me around to the north and the west
Let the cold wind put my spirit to test
Spinning in circles above the white snow
Waiting for somewhere the wild things go
Just keep spinning round.
Copper wind, blow me home.
Blow me home.
