It Seems They Have Our Whereabouts​.​.

from by Our Man In The Bronze Age



A reason dies lies shred and torn 
Back through our eyes we are reborn
In sleep we find our whereabouts

A final straw that brakes the back 
The rain that falls upon our tracks, alive

The droves they march across the line
The dusty boots that fall in time
It seems they have our whereabouts

So speed your wit with supple thought
We hold our ropes and keep them taught tonight

In case you'd rather run
Fly wait for no one
In case you'd rather run


from The Gallows Tree, track released March 17, 2012


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