There's a sculpture of ice at the end of my wrist
An ice-cold immobilised mitten of mist
Held fast in the grip of Jack Frost's chilly fist
It must be winter again
Mere moments ago, it was flesh, it was bone
But I left it laid carelessly out on its own
On the bedcovers' bad side, all naked and prone
It must be winter again
From pinky to thumb, it's uncomfortably numb
It must be winter again
My hand was now that of a luckless mechanic
A little too late to get off the Titanic
But I chided myself, there's no need to panic
It must be winter again
I'll just slip it back under the blankets, of course
And snuggle it in between legs that are crossed
And before you know it, I'll start to defrost
It must be winter again
The hand plunges in, my eyes widen in terror
I seem to have made a small tactical error
Now eight hundred muscles contract and they seize
As billions and trillions of atoms all freeze
Between sheets of ice, my whole core loses feeling
And suddenly, frostbite seems less unappealing
Through needles and pins, I can hear my brain yelp
Next time I'll just let it fall off by itself
From my head to my heel I'm completely congealed
It must be winter again
The Māori-Scottish vocalist, also of the Electric Wire Hustle, embarks on a journey of self-discovery inspired by his Māori heritage. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 23, 2021
A vibrant post-punk album that explores the co-existence of pleasure and pressure through warm natural metaphor and gritty riffs. Bandcamp Album of the Day Aug 9, 2017