Fritch: ‘How’s The View there?’ The Wordbook.

01.Heat on a Leash

Typewriters clack
With their meat cleaver keys
Stamping their feet in red letters

White ribbon scriptures
Hang cracks to the walls
And I cant catch a break of a word

Fragments hang backs to the rafters
Sheets pass their last owner’s
Best incantations
Up into my skin with precision

Preachers sling hooks from the plaster
The faster they preach
The faster I reach
For the speech, I relapse and retreat  

I’m ready, I’m skillet,
I am heat on a leash
And I can’t catch a break of a word

I’m sweating out ink and I’m gasping
Grievances creek through the gutter

I reach for the speed
Of the speech and retreat
With each word a new son to another

02.Fracture So Easy

I’m only angry between
First cigarette and sleeping

Tell me you love me need me
State I’m in, do you really

Late night in California
Light rips across the sky
Even the stars adore ya

Fracture so easy

I’m only angry between
First cigarette and sleeping

03. Imperfect Love

Is this my skin
So weak and worn
Is this my grip
This prick and thorn
Take this my flesh
This blue white flesh
These blue white limbs
This blue white skin

That sweet embrace
That naked state
That naked eye
That sweetest trace

That blue white dawn
All weak and worn
This blue white skin
Blue white no more

Imperfect Love

04. How’s The View There?

We tried so hard to make it
We tried so hard to make it break

Dear God I know we don’t talk much
But aren’t you meant to work for us

Who sees who and how’s the view there?
Show me who’s been made in whose
I see you and what’s it to you?
Tell me who’s afraid of who

Your eyes are mine, your names are new
Your clothes your shoes, your milk teeth too
Your borrowed tongue, will come undone
It’s only same as always was

It’s only same as always was


Embarrassed to fall back on calling I called
For some kind of divine intervention

I’m sure what I called for
Was more than a cruel
A girl in a vision

She hangs like a canvas
She hangs in thin air
And this is the guide I got given

I crossed my chest like a child
When I last lost my loving for living

And this is the guide I got given

06.Last New Orleans Dawn of July

Mamma Fay waves off her green gypsy dress
Pulls the next cigarette to her humming bird lips
She works at the cards and the beads in her bag
Fingertips through her voodoo and prayers

Mamma Fay walk to the water
Lovers, hold on to your loves
Fathers, hold on to your daughters
Mother, hold on to the ones kept indoors

We walk to the water in history’s shoes
We move with a grace in a skin
Last New Orleans dawn of July and the sky
Bites its tongue on a charm and a chain

We bathe in the river, we grieve
Cool ink beneath black ribbon hair
Her green gypsy dress meets the morning
We breathe in the New Orleans air

Mamma Fay walks in the water
Lover, hold on to your love
Mother, hold on to your daughter
Father, keep hold on to the ones left indoors

All tracks now available on Black and Ivory Vinyl
or pre-order CD or Cassette.

All words Will Wilkinson. Music Will Wilkinson, Stephen Tee, Anna Cotten, B.H Mistry,  Achille Dunoyer de Segonzac & Phil Booth.

Thank You.