The Mill - White Helmets Charity Digital Single

by Great Apes

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1.
02:13

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This is a digital only single. All proceeds from purchases will be donated to the White Helmets (www.whitehelmets.org/en). The song's lyrics were written as a memorial homage to Brian's grandfather, who passed away recently at the age of 105. Given that he was a refugee who immigrated from Austria-Hungary to the United States to escape the rising tide of fascism in the nineteen twenties, we found it fitting to donate to an organization that works actively to aid those in Syria.


a century of spins and now this world ain’t for me
just let me see the spring sun of Austria-Hungary
a crippled vessel adrift in a foreign age
set me in the river’s stroke, across a golden page

bound to this bed
where the decades tangle in my head
my mother’s eyes in the Ellis Island halls
and the soldiers’ boots; I can see it all

the birthing room, the Detroit plumes – I can see it all
the synagogue, the Berkeley fog – I can see it all
the wedding dress, her final breath – I can see it all
the molecules, expansive grace
the web in stars, the void’s embrace

dissolve to dust
I’m coming home.

credits

released January 5, 2017

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Great Apes San Francisco, California

Insert hype-up descriptors here. Plain and simple, San Francisco's Great Apes are a lyrical punk band. Music, much like a bio, is often at its best when it’s spit out intensely and quickly, with concision and honesty.

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Track Name: The Mill
This is a digital only single. All proceeds from purchases will be donated to the White Helmets (https://www.whitehelmets.org/en). The song's lyrics were written as a memorial homage to Brian's grandfather, who passed away recently at the age of 105. Given that he was a refugee who immigrated from Austria-Hungary to the United States to escape the rising tide of fascism in the nineteen twenties, we found it fitting to donate to an organization that works actively to aid those in Syria.

a century of spins and now this world ain’t for me
just let me see the spring sun of Austria-Hungary
a crippled vessel adrift in a foreign age
set me in the river’s stroke, across a golden page

bound to this bed
where the decades tangle in my head
my mother’s eyes in the Ellis Island halls
and the soldiers’ boots; I can see it all

the birthing room, the Detroit plumes – I can see it all
the synagogue, the Berkeley fog – I can see it all
the wedding dress, her final breath – I can see it all
the molecules, expansive grace
the web in stars, the void’s embrace

dissolve to dust
I’m coming home.