Lyrics
An easy swing had its time shouldered
Slow bending axe
And now it's a photo framed
The swing hasn't had it
And here we are rebuilding roads
Right by roosting towns
It's just like the love
The one that's never been enough
So I'm counting on your fingers
'Cause you've reattached the twitch
And even if you want opinion
I would die along the ditches
And every summer is a heart talking
To the cold, cold take of lust
And every autumn singes
With the business of sadness
Our friend had it wrong
I sing "Honey, heaven burns"
Another curve in the counting
His head is earning more
So I'm counting on your fingers
'Cause you've reattached the twitch
And even if you want opinion
I would die along the ditches
