Lyrics:
an easy swing had it's time shouldered-slow bending axe.now it's a photo framed. the swing hasn't had it.and here we are rebuilding roadsright 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 twitchand if you want opinion,i will die along the ditches.and every summer is a hot tokento the cold, cold take of lust.and every autumn singes with the business of sadness.our friend had it wrong. we 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 twitchand if you want opinion, i will die along the ditches.