Wrap around my mind,
Your grip so cold.
Squeeze the matter out,
This blood runs gold.
Colouring water streams of information
Down which we are sold.
All of these impressions that I can’t see,
Digital paws are all over me.
Playing host to modern ghosts,
Imprints on the breeze.
All these connections I barely feel,
Digital claws have a hold on me.
Numbly limp in the buzzard's grip,
Ascending gracefully.
Gaze upon my eyes,
Your torch-like stare.
Drain the colour out
A sight scorched barely
Seen through visions blurred
Reflect in blackened mirrors.
Golden threads in history we leave.
When did we all become a currency?
All of these impressions that I can’t see,
Digital paws are all over me.
Playing host to modern ghosts,
Imprints on the breeze.
All these connections I barely feel,
Digital claws have a hold on me.
Numbly limp in the buzzard's grip,
Ascending gracefully.
Buried in history,
Mummified in circuitry…
credits
from SKINWALKER,
released April 28, 2018
recorded by Chris Ryan in The Lodge, Ballinderry
additional recording on Candahar Street, Belfast
mixed by Chris Ryan
mastered by Dan Coutant @ Sun Room Audio, NY
All songs written and performed by tethers
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