The gaslight lighter

The gates to the mill at the top of nob hillclose at one minute past five,they open again in the evening at six tolet the mill workers go home. God it were tough in the shedsthe overseer banging heads andshouting wake up you lazy scruffs,but he were on a bonuswhile us poor sodswere on bread…

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The Lune valley

Cotton mills and lemonade. We played catch me, in the ruins of those mausoleums hiding behind rusted machinery. The years go on and then suddenly they’re gone and only the memories play tricks on our minds…

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