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A Searing Analysis of Pretty Much Everything

by Little Anchors

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1.
2.
Keeping time to forge a guide, flirt with the hands on the clock. Watching days waste away, I ignore the book on my lap; the words are old, the tone is cold, sigh at the end of a line. I bless the name of who remains a blurry pain in my side. I know this is a lie, but I want to entertain the thought of being old and wise and grey. Let it go. Three new holes are in my belt, I'm still a quarter size shy. This new house in not a home, I hear the errors unfold. The growing pains and cob-webbed walls replace the memories of old; I bless the name of who remains a steady rock at my side. I know this is a lie, but I want to entertain the thought of being old and wise and grey. Let it go.
3.
Whisper a song amid the drone of old machines. These untrained ears will never hear those tones again. I'm brushing the dust away and uncover love in mottled remains. No, your song will never go unsung. I'll never hide the cold lament in those words; the strongest salve cannot heal the sores of time. Please drag this hurt away. In my reprieve, I want to make it known that your song will never go unsung. I whisper your song amid the drone of cold words.
4.
Crestfallen, too home worn, I slip into restless moan. A cornerstone is missing in the wall, the plan is ill born. I'm lost in the mire fumbling for a severed line. Afraid to tread or mark another path I don't know, I won't grow. Cast aspersions on the other life I forego. Wishful heart, eyes too shut; coughing up but looking down. Listless lips are stumbling on the words I want to say. Awash in the ebb but not the flow, I'm left ashore. Afraid to tread or mark another path I don't know, I won't grow. Cast aspersions on the other life I forego.
5.
Droplets 03:31
We pick at the same chord; watching strings break or moan under the weight of the heaviest hands and hearts. Move slowly through the modes that we've chosen. The highest note is frozen in time, but thaw approaches. Watching as it melts, I'm reeling at the sound of droplets falling. We're like skimming stones, all it takes is one encounter to drag us down below. Move slowly through the modes that we've chosen. The highest note is frozen in time, but thaw approaches. Copper lined lungs give out, carry the weight of one last shout. Silence is not my vow, terms of endearment take a bow. Tangled in our impasse; breath on my neck, a coup de grace. Dare to desire, burn bright, take flame to the wick of our last light.

credits

released April 19, 2013

Little Anchors is Ross Middlemiss
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Ross Middlemiss
Strings on 'Droplets' performed by Avril Smart
Photography by Callum Sutherland

Thanks: Avril Smart, Kevin Black, Callum Sutherland, Owen McLaughlin, Kris Keiller, Michael Lennie, Dan Faichney, Mark Keiller, Fraser Stewart, Suzanne Paterson, Jordan Napier, Robin Sutherland, Chris Mylles, Dom Smith, Maw, Paw, Aunty Mary, Del, and pretty much everyone else.

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