A sad stork hits The North once more
Spun out from the core all breathless and sore
Once flayed in the streets one can never retreat
Set controls for the rine of the British Summertime
A mad stork hits the ward once more
Head shaved for keepsakes
Honourable L-plates
‘Where on earth have you been?’
I’ve been jonesing like a fiend
All terrible seen for another slice of amitriptyline
They say rep for the code but whats a nomad to do?
0121 354 01902?
I got birth marks I ain’t even found yet
Ain’t even been round yet
Ain’t even pondered the shape of beat to come in your town yet
I want to be the boy with no beard, shirt or shoes
Who rides out to meet the Hellfyre crew
And thats true
My younger self once told me, once spoke in a dream
‘You’re as lost as I am clung on isms and ists
I might be frightened and bored but I’m more so in your midst’
I fire back to say I know where my home is
I don’t need to be hid
I’m an Asexual Odinist and you’re just a lonely kid
So a glad stork hits the floor once more
Trounced up and down right left and around
I’m struggling to tie my bolo down
I give up, I give up on it
But a man at the bar stumbles up just to say
‘Make the most of these days boy they’re the best you’ll ever see’
..ok
But when you’re fraught with discrepancy
Bout familial dependency no-one wants rhymes bout millennial ascendancy
I give up, I give up on it
So a sad stork hits The North once more
Return to the core, lore on land, land on lore
The greatest feat I ever saw was sights on the rine
Of the Great British Dreamtime
Despite its themes of isolation and loneliness, Caroline White's latest batch of folk-pop confessionals is an LP brimming with confidence. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 7, 2019