Dedham Vale

from by Way Through

/

lyrics

Dedham Vale

I retread the circle in this heavy field.
Sometimes it's hard, to tell it, from what's real.
Grass is now growing, all over the grave,
The well trodden path straight across Dedham Vale.

Dedham Vale lives, it's life through another
Map not to scale, this land is a dumb supper
Of wide open skies and a slow turning river,
Broadly reflecting vast clouds underwater.
Poppies and pylons and long fallen logs,
Meandering Saturday walkers swap dogs.
A mirror of Lott's cottage squared in the pool,
A double-world of tour guides and trips made with school.

Who thought that paint could turn into cold clay?
An aspect so perfect they locked it away.
The Mill Stream, The White Horse and a cart for the hay,
Unchanging, enduring, remaining the same.
Sickle and shotgun, bushel and plough
Canvas and paint, is all we are left now.

One Ninety Years, one story to tell.
One Ninety Years, as a tongue in a bell.

I retread the circle in this heavy field.
Sometimes it's hard, to tell it, from what's real.
Grass is now growing, all over the grave.

credits

from CLAPPER IS STILL, released November 11, 2013

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about

Way Through London, UK

WAY THROUGH are Claire Titley and Christopher Tipton, a pastoral punk duo originally from Shropshire, now residing in London. Informed by the field as much as the flyover, Way Through write songs which phase out with guitar, tapes, damaged drums and vocals. Using wrong-footed repetition, rapid interplay and free-looping happenstance the band create a ragged yet intuitive tapestry of sound. ... more

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