Roughting Linn

from by Way Through

/

lyrics

Roughting Linn

The lane courses slow past the waterfall.
A copse sunk low where the plain is drawn.
Through the trees, a rough outcrop,
A gap in the fence and a bellowing noise.

Trails vanish through the undergrowth,
Before returning to a den of
Quarried sandstone, carved by antlers.
Plates of pattern, and a bellowing noise.

Breaching whale,
Fallen meteorite, galloping.
No signs, no markers,
In the low light leaping.

Cup and ring,
Eyes opening,
Staring, dissolving.
Hoops and pools, concentric circles.
The longer spent the more detail unfolds.
Portals and tails and white blood cells.
Cloaks and maps and warping radials,
Adder lairs and other sights seen in the night sky,
Some type of sacrifice.

Paths leading everywhere in hope of finding,
No more signs, no more markings.

Scrambling fighter planes strike across the sky,
Arcing over the newly combed fields,
Folding an absence behind them.
It’s time to leave and get used to not returning.

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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