Barely Know You're Name

I, Decided [2022]

Acclivity - Brian Butts

An old salt, peers out from the bolts. 
Takes a look at the world on his plate.
He hands red raw, advice to his mate.
He knows that summer times drawing short. 

The cheese and the pickle, the bells, and the whistle away.
Working slowly - just waiting for much better days, in the haze. 

Stuck till Friday, an eye on the wall.
An important call, what's the date?
A punter comes in, a punch on the chin, 
or an old baccy tin, a long wait. 

The posters of girls on the wall have not aged like his face.
Turning slowly, just hoping for much better days. Through the haze. 

The cheese and the trickle of money that ties to the place.
Working slowly - just waiting for much better days. in a daze. 

An old smith, a rock megalith,
which was uncovered minutes too late. 
Having lain in the darkness for countless odd years without the forbearance to wait. 

The keeping of vigils and banging of anvils, 
the strength in the arms,
It fades slowly, just waiting for much better days.
Borne away. 

An old smith,  a weary eyed sit, and a look down at the ground. 
At the ground.

Smiths

Older track that didn’t fit anywhere until now, remixed during the Canberra fires. A very dark time.

Warhound

Irgan Himbeere

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