We've moved through
These past few years
With anchors on our feet
And the sidewalks have been worn down by the soles of our shoes. Like tires do to the downtown streets
When it rains those ruts fill to the brim and these anchors drag us under,

They drag us up to our necks and still we move.

I shouldn't have to feel fixed here like the trees I climbed
in years I've left so far behind.
With my roots dug deep against my will
My limbs sway in the wind
For a shovel to dig myself out of the ground.

To fall and be free, or decompose
Both are a means of escape
Like wolf in a trap I think I'd rather bite off my leg then die in this place

It's like my life is a glass house
I can see the way out but I'm locked inside and there not a single stone to be found.

Beating my oars against this current, well I might as well be beating a dead horse. Cause I'm getting I'm getting no where I haven't been before.

I can't be the only one.
I guess I'm the only one

So many parts of me are dead now.
That what growing up
Must be about.
So many parts of me died long ago.


from On Which To Build A Home, released March 4, 2016



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