What The Winter Can’t Take

WHAT THE WINTER CAN’T TAKE

It’s GrizzlyJones…

It’s time…

Drop da beat… drop it…

Look up.

That Hunter’s Moon ain’t waiting on nobody.

October laid the cornfields bare,

Cold got teeth in the midnight air.

Twelve past twelve, silver on the hood,

Parked where my daddy’s old deer stand stood.

He said, “Boy, when the daylight thins,

Check on your people, bring the firewood in.”

Now I stack those words like oak by the door,

Got less to prove and a little worth more.

Bills on the counter, frost on the glass,

Can’t heat a home with a handful of cash

You already spent trying to look like a king—

Tonight I’m counting who the table brings.

Let the bare limbs shake,

Let the north wind come.

I know what to carry,

I know what to leave undone.

Hunter’s Moon, hang high, hang high,

Pour that silver on this life.

We got wood to split, got bread to break,

Got a little love that the cold won’t take.

Oh-oh, let the long night roll,

There’s a fire here worth more than gold.

Under you, I see what stays—

What the winter can’t take.

Neighbor’s porch hasn’t shone in a week,

Saw him at the mailbox, too proud to speak.

Took two plates and a load of dry pine,

Said, “Help me out, man, I made too much tonight.”

We sat without fixing a damn thing first,

Sometimes company carries the worst.

Moon climbed higher, coffee went cold,

He laughed like somebody I used to know.

Used to hunt down a name in lights,

Lose whole days trying to win one night.

Now there’s boots by the stove, somebody asleep,

And a promise I made that I mean to keep.

Let the bare limbs shake,

Let the north wind come.

There’s enough at this table—

Move a chair, make room for one.

Hunter’s Moon, hang high, hang high,

Pour that silver on this life.

We got wood to split, got bread to break,

Got a little love that the cold won’t take.

Oh-oh, let the long night roll,

There’s a fire here worth more than gold.

Under you, I see what stays—

What the winter can’t take.

That moon won’t split the wood for me,

Won’t call the ones I need.

It only lights the empty road—

I choose where it leads.

So before this silver leaves the sky,

Before another season flies,

I’ll say the words I’ve saved too long

While they’re here to hear them tonight.

Hunter’s Moon, hang high, hang high,

Shine on every porch tonight.

We got hands to hold, got bread to break,

Got a little love that the cold won’t take.

Oh-oh, let the long night roll,

Keep a chair beside the stove.

When your silver starts to fade,

We’ll be what the winter can’t take.

Leave the porch light burning.

Somebody’s coming home.