Brackett, WI - Bon Iver

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 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 if you want opinion,

I will die along the ditches.

And every summer is a hot token

To 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 twitch

And if you want opinion,

I will die along the ditches.