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A thousand cuts

from A minor arc by Richard Buchanan

/

lyrics

You call me up
And then hang up
One more of a thousand cuts
laid onto me,
my one and three,
then scurry off to watch us bleed.

You must have knew
What cuts could do
with blood that runs through me and you.
That blackened heart
tore apart
the root from which we grew.

And now there’s nothing left to say.
Gone are the games we used to play.

As grown-ups seek
a way to speak
with flip-flops on for mountain peaks,
a little world
of boys and girls
burns up in the heat

And now there’s nothing left to say.
Gone are the games we used to play.
All past and future swept away.
I wait and watch a corpse decay.

If you cling to hate
you become hate.
I forgive you and wipe my slate.

credits

from A minor arc, released November 20, 2020

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Richard Buchanan Scotland, UK

Former bass player with legendary Scottish 90s folk rock under-achievers The Lost Soul Band, Richard now writes, performs and records songs that draw from a wide range of influences.

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