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lyrics

You take that turning.
You’ve got to wake for the Lord in the morning,
With the shadow of the church spire falling
On the shoulders and heels of the fearing.

The wind banks low,
Draws a furrow through the fields by the wish stone
And while the constellations pin us down,
One death makes all the dogs howl.

And they say they know you, that they grew with you,
But you don’t know them at all.

This wreath of brambles
Banked by catechisms and kerbstones,
We’ve got herons stalking the burns
But the devil’s cast out of our homes.

I carve my name,
My name singing of new lands and shelter,
My name set upon for colour,
My name dreamt by others.

White clouds rolling, black earth open.
You’ve got to wait for the call.

credits

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

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about

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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