Doc Mills

From the North

Moved Right In with the ghosts...

The world flows around us. So often I think half our life is simply putting on a show for everyone we encounter. We move from role to role; we wear different faces. So much of our success in this world depends on what we choose to show, to whom, and when. I get this wrong a lot. I have never written a truer line than the final one of this song.

I originally wrote “Stranger” as a fast rocker; the kind of song I could use to open a bar set and cut through the crowd din. The last verse was originally the chorus to that version. One night in a quiet room, I just decided to slow it down. Over time, I removed the verse-chorus structure from the tune until it reached its final form. This is how the song needs to be…for now.

Stranger

I’ve always lived in an old house
Moved right in with the ghosts
Now I’m down some friends, a dog, a spouse
The spirits always got me most

I take a walk outside when I’m feeling strong
Can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong
All the folks I meet have got it figured out
Everybody else knows what this is all about

She was born in a sawmill yard
No one caught her, she was gone
Now she covers all her battle scars
To hide the proof of what she’s done

She slips into the cracks at night
So she can snuff out every light
Staring up into that cloudless dark
She can never get there though
She’s never seen the stars

Shell I never wore the city well
Nothing in these streets is ever true
But you need to know that I would walk through hell
If I was walking next to you

When I go you know you’ve got a job to do
Roll up a smoke and find someone new
Take her all the places I won’t go
You gotta feel that skin though
You gotta know

I’ve been keeping my head down with the fall coming on
The wind is cold but I’m fitting in
I think I can keep it up, but I never stay long
I’ve been a stranger everywhere that I’ve ever been