Must be a "Hell of a Drug" - The third song from BOYS TALKING

March can be eerie. The sun returns, spring looms, and yet the trees are not quite alive. Excitement struggles to build in a barren landscape. A sudden chill can trick a tired mind into believing winter never ends.

My hope for spring exists because of prior evidence and experience—not because of March.

“Hell of a Drug” is out today—the third song from Boys Talking, available everywhere you stream or download music. Again, the album has been available five months online and at shows. I’m releasing songs based on votes from those who grabbed a copy. Of the top four, I chose this one for this time of year and this moment in time.

“Write blank checks to that boy

picking your pocket say you trust

him cuz all that money he got”

When does the snake realize that its sumptuous meal is its own tail? Will its hunger ever be satiated enough for a drop of self awareness to halt this colossal error? Dying on the side of the road while it picks itself from its own fangs, eternally satisfied that it really stuck it to any other type of meal planning.

“Eat your own dreams

Damn your own drain

Dig your own hole

Love your own hate

Poison my wellness

must be a hell of a drug”

The march of time swallows all snakes and all things. Some get wise before their demise, and that can make all the difference. I have to believe in people to get up and write this, to pick up my guitar and play it. To record this song and share it. To release it in this way that feels ethical to our current experience and to prioritize the show: our time together with music. Those feasting on our freedoms rely on our exhaustion to make us feel too powerless to resist. That we might forget what is under the frost.

It’s not easy. But winter does recede and everything crumbling in the cold returns new, and improved, in full bloom. Not a delusion of hope- just believing in the prior evidence. 

I am grateful for your ears, hearts and time.  Ouroboros, amigos. Keep going.  

W;ll