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Leaving my home shores and north winds,
Brittle maps of my ribs bowing.
They carried blood down to my hand
Where they struck you dumb, made you a believer.

No matter how hard you try – they fail to listen to you –
Though they swear you’re free to rise – but they’ve placed their hands upon you –
And time and time again – they’re grouping to welcome you –
But you’re alone with everyone.

This reach of crooked lines and hollows,
The ground falling under my fingertips.
I draw napes and brows and scars, I walk on water.
And all the rivers sing: ‘all I am is of here’.

If you feel you’re on your own
Your world’s in rhymes that you can’t understand at al
And you’re left to broken homes
Holding out for one more chance to come along.

And the songs that filled the house – were lifted to the rooftops.
Of the glory in their hearts – and the gathering of the crowd.
The water washed my mouth – and the language that I spoke –
Was snaked in riddles, roped in code.


from We're becoming islands one by one, released May 31, 2013


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The Sleeping Years London, UK

The Sleeping Years is the solo project for Dale Grundle, formerly of the Catchers.
‘We’re becoming Islands One by One’, showcases Dale’s exquisitely crafted, highly personal songs, influenced by the language and culture of Northern Ireland.

Guardian: ‘his voice breaks exquisitely between hope and despair in songs that the acoustic guitar was invented for’
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