Doc Mills

From the North

You can burn them into nothing…

We are the sum of our parts. Different parts do different jobs. The system gets us through.

“Bones” traveled a long way. I originally wrote elements of it on the piano, as a study of the many different roles our hands play in our lives. Over time, I adopted a broader perspective for it, re-wrote most verses, and moved toward my country roots. By the time we hit the studio, I had a clear vision for the song, which was only realized with the help of some fantastic players: Alan Camlet on drums, Chris Koch on guitar, Dave Lockhart on bass, and Leenya Rideout on fiddle. We are the sum of our parts.

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These bones

These bones,
are straining underneath this load
I’m on the road,
I need to lay it down
I’m out here all alone

This hand,
it holds the pen but it is shaking
Bends an approximation of a signature
Still good enough
to get by those who’d know it

And I am haunted by a spectre
So I’ve been living in the light
But I’m not doing any better
I’m moving all the furniture
I’m sleeping in the corner chair tonight

These veins,
they carry everything I need
They feed the brain,
they spread the pain around
If you’d open them you’d see it

I scrawled the words I’d love to shout
I crossed them out, I’m making some revisions
I’m dressing in my Sunday best, you know the rest
I come for some religion

These bones
You can burn them into nothing
You can scatter them
out all across the sea
I don’t need them for any resurrection