We are all on the autism spectrum
My nod to it is I only allow myself to listen to this wonderful song after clocks go back. When clocks go forward I stop.
Do you think artists can be seasonal? Last year I was talking to Cohen in the pub (not Leonard but the one who used to be on here regularly) and he mentioned how he seemed to listen to Cat Stevens a lot in Autumn. I understood.
Alan Hull's lyrics are good enough to stand on their as written word.
When Winter's shadowy fingers first pursue you down the street
And your boots no longer lie about the cold around your feet
Do you spare a thought for summer whose passage is complete
Whose memories lie in ruins and whose ruins lie in heat
When winter... comes howling in.