High alone in the winter, waiting for an encounter with a ghost I know;
the tri-tone chords play even worse when I get close. / This never used to be me, waiting up for the chance to get your note. / I couldn't believe it: that one of us could really go. / It's Bill Hicks' cosmic joke, / A haunted house with a ghost I know.
They say you can't hear me when I talk to my room in a subtle spell. / My gut says they're right, man, but it's not enough to kill my / Soft doubt, it runs all ways / To keep the sword away from my name.
High alone in the winter, I alone am the winner.
I'm too ripped and they're so uptight, / You're dark you're dark, and if you're light, you're light. / Too ripped and they're so uptight, / But there's nothing to prove - it's just a ride.
from "Bill Hicks" b/w "Everything",
released January 6, 2017
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Alfredo Berrios at Raven Blue Studio, Brookfield, CT. Photograph of Bill Hicks at the Laff Stop in 1991 by Angela Davis. You can find her on Flickr as WestWhim.