1. |
Graves
04:29
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2. |
Talk to Strangers
04:00
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3. |
Made in an Image
04:03
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4. |
Comfort
03:28
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5. |
Fractures
04:06
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I lay my head down across the border, I have taken your name.
Though I lay where a dozen lay before me, the bed is rigid all the same.
You seek the colour set in another's sheets, question me still.
About where I've been and about some other, without whom I could be free.
The red and blue, the green in you are causing fractures old and new.
The red and blue, the green in you.
You overheard me talking about you in my sleep last night. And confess you, you don't hear this quite as often as you'd like.
Here I'll lay my head down, here I'll cross the borders, here I'll lay among the green. But as soon as the red and blue follow, it is me that won't be seen.
The red and blue, the green in you are causing fractures old and new.
The red and blue, the green in you.
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6. |
Change My Mind
03:12
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7. |
Wires
05:14
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8. |
Snakepit
03:18
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9. |
The Collection
05:11
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In amongst the paperclips, the absent checks and the light payslips I often wonder how I got to here.
I've collected sheets and scores, I catalogue and I lock these doors. Safe and sound I am fragile in my home.
Cause you've got nothing of worth to me.
You've got nothing that I really need.
I'll scrape my knees and I'll cut my hands, to shut this off to fellow man.
I live among the towers in here now.
Copper springs and five watt bulbs, skipping ropes and broken phones. Here are mine, won't you show me yours?
Cause you've got nothing of worth to me.
You've got nothing that I really need.
Go line your pockets in the factories,
Cause I'll trade only in my history.
Here's my respite, here is my world - I'll keep it close like a could a pearl.
I know that there is comfort to be found, in between the jars and screens, the scattered cobwebs and dead machines. Sparks are lit here, well within my dreams.
I've found in my space here, I can abide the casual distress and my own sacrifice. To choose how I live and to think I can choose.
The failings behind this, I should refuse.
Cause I've got nothing of worth to me.
I've got nothing that I really need.
I'll won't line my pockets in the factories.
Cause I'll trade only in my - my history.
I remember her fair face, her warmth in body and her strength in grace, before she left here for the lack of pace.
This was our home and in our bed we'd both sleep at night, one eye not at rest. I always knew my collection was best.
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10. |
Faders
03:45
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Does this really need to be said out loud?
Why is the silence not preferred?
They're running dry of the patience they take.
But this is our moment, this is our chance at a break.
We are the faders, we'll keep your interest.
We'll hold you to the seat and show you we have less.
My wife was always my every thrill.
She stood by me when I took ill.
My granted and my good old friend.
They became much more bitter towards the very end.
We are the faders, we'll keep your interest.
We'll hold you to the seat and show you.
We are the faders, we'll keep your interest.
We'll hold you to the seat and show you we have less.
I see my kids when there's a break in school.
And at odd weekends when I'm told it will do.
I think of them picking toys from the floor.
And in cleaning the hand marks that line this great long hall.
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11. |
Rotor in an Organ
04:00
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Can you hear it calling? His masters voice it speaks.
Quietly condoning us for the messages we do not heed.
I was taught about it, often I understood.
Just how it was a sign of protest, and long it had stood.
Like a rotor in an organ, like print on a page.
It could show us the time and the wonder that lie in the unknown space.
Like a rotor in an organ, like print on a page.
It could show us the time and the wonder that lie in the unknown space.
Now it stands to reason, the message from the voice would change.
To accommodate the people and reflect the coming age.
But between the line and the verse, between the breath and the speech.
Something's lost as though we refrain from allowing the voice to teach.
Like a rotor in an organ, like print on a page.
It could show us the time and the wonder that lie in the unknown space.
Like a rotor in an organ, like print on a page.
It could show us the time and the wonder that lie in the unknown space.
Not one of these days.
But for some of these days.
You will come to know how close you've come to sticking in your ways.
Not one of these days.
But some of these days.
You will come to know how close you've been to sticking in your ways.
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Greenback Scotland, UK
Perthshire based bass, vocals and fear of overwatering houseplants.
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