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lyrics

You're back inland, the constable says
So I hung some words on a barbed wire fence.

We got the letter, came through Vancouver.
Such a long way round for such a little thing.
It was signed in court, with a photograph,
Said they'll never forget what your father did.
Passed it around the usual crowd,
Raised a glass to the ghost of him.
Sang old songs as we were kicking out,
Left it stuck behind the bar with a drawing pin.

We have moved to some winter quarters
This old place on division street.
And we talk about healing and we talk about pain
We talk about the little things that keep us sane.
These wooden floors and timber walls
Carved these stories in themselves.
We make our echoes in these shadows
And the bottles cycle through the shelves.

Fill her up, to the brim
Come on son we'll see this through.
Fill her up, let nothing else in,
No-one knows what we can do.

There's a scrap of old cloth on a barbed wire fence.
So we wrote some words to make amends.

credits

from The Lockdown Sessions Vol. 1, released December 4, 2020

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Drew Stephenson York, UK

Drew Stephenson is a singer-songwriter based in York, UK, writing conventional songs about unconventional subjects.
Death, monkeys and space hardware may all feature.
He is also part of The Southern Wild.

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