‘Work It Out’ is a call to arms for freedom from the bonds of a cynical world, calling for the listener to embrace the changes that come from within. It is a song about both letting go and moving on and finding a reason to continue along your path when times could see at all lost. It is as hopeful as it is grounded, and a stoic hymn for the surviving optimists still marching for a brighter world. The lyrics are direct but inviting, welcoming you to consider your own perspective and to consider your own ‘golden chain’, the conflicting metaphor Drew employs for the burdens we carry with us. Drew, however, views a burden in a considerably positive light, stating near-cynical imagery in an otherwise hopeful frame.

Drew enjoys walking most of all, and stayed these lyrics came to him on an enlightening adventure across Brontë County. Drew trekked across hills from Howarth to Hebden Bridge, crossing Ram’s in the throes of mating season and stopping for a cheese sandwich at Wuthering Heights. Drew uses hiking as a means of connecting with himself and finding what drives him, and that same walking imagery is evoked in both the lyrics and gently strolling music that ticks along the way-by.

August Moon I remember you As you came to greet the sunset Seems you were dressed in all red Could see the shine in both your eyes

You spoke as if speaking to your own reflection You gave a harsh word with a sharpish inflection She cried into the night Now I’ve got you in my sights

Just me and you My august moon

Oh lovely moon, how I wish to hold you near me And calm you of your anger Let me hold you tonight Do you need someone to cry on You’re a star in denial

My august moon My closest friend I’ll love you dearly Until the end

A Meadow Full of Wildflowers Daisies softly hum Against a Van Gogh painted sunset Their petals daint’ly drum

The needle of a thistle Could strum at my guitar On a bed of sleeping cowslips To carry me afar

I woke up and faced the day with a long-awaited smile upon my face.

I lay in wait, anxiously pacing my mind, my eyes wide ajar. Across the street from my abode, I hear branches crash against one another like great tides. Foxes screech and howl with guttural, terrifying urgency. Any moment now, my soul will be snatched away from me into that dismal, ceaseless place, and my body will remain a whimpering, limp and weighty husk. The church bell bellows out two chimes. I urge myself to stay awake, but the haunting presence persists. No sooner do my eyes begin to slip, and my breath becomes lazy and listless. A weight blankets my mind, still and shuttered, and as my being slips away, the figure emerges.

If wishes fell like rain, then certainly I am a storm To wash away your pain and crash open every door For you I’ll make a way and flood every river high So you can drink again, your wishes from the sky