The Counties by Sawyer (Fife) Lyrics

Bruised neck sounds good in local slang. Wintertime
Theme. Experiments with scents and the pressed
Flowers and how the bulb has the flower like head
Mornings look different. Love and tenderness. Affirming
Loss. Bittersweet dust. People all the time in the big
Cities

She writes about walls and displacement. He writes her
He writes her. He writеs

Ripped elbows make suggеstion of easy hair. Crumpled
Bunches are winterwarm in the aging room. Promise
The pure sound, creative job. Interrupting the lie-ins in
The big cities, the high ceilings. Promise the pure sound
In the big cities, the high ceilings, the high

She writes about walls and displacement. He writes her
He writes her. He writes

RIGHT!! She writes about walls and displacement. He
Writes her. He writes her. He writes. Into the soul. Into
The sea. Into the sound with the sight of your lips. Living
In the ICE AGE. I'M LIVING IN THE ICE AGE