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the week between the years

from bottle the grief by The Great Park

/

lyrics

when i was half alive i shut my eyes and gave up the good that you’d shown i turned my back back to the sun and threw the damn thing home i caught her scent and in an instant it filled my troubled dome i been a dumb son mum no more to be done but bury me and hope i grow in the rushes and in the hollows in the cottage under the stairs i was a younger man sitting on my hands my plans so grand back then now i shuffle to the kitchen and i seek out the softest chair the warmest cosiest corner and settle into song again i got lost away from the river confused i wouldn’t say scared and i sat beside an empty post office with letters and cards prepared a dozen policemen patrolling by i didn’t catch the eye of any one when your head is built the way mine is it doesn’t pay to keep it up and the light seemed to leave quicker than before i didn’t wait to get out of there i stole a glimpse and then bottled it day done dusted dead i could hear the angelus chiming but i could not tell from where but if i find a way i’ll make my way to yell at the bells again well at black water bridge she floated beneath her frock flashed in the silvery deep it was a parachute of bone and blue open and billowing her coal dust hair her eyes wide and scared i crossed myself and did run yes i turned away when it was easy to stay and be true at least for once there is a songbird at the window and the little one sleeps at my feet i have an eye on the door but i don’t know what for i have more than i could ever need and somewhere out there the winds are growing and will push the storm upon oh this week between the years is dark and strange and long

credits

from bottle the grief, released May 1, 2020

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The Great Park Germany

Stephen Burch. Problem folk, songs with words.

"Ein Singer-Songwriter ist immer auch Poet. Und Burch ist ein ganz besonderer." (Süddeutsche Zeitung)

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