Heading for a spin

There’s nothing that you can do

Penniless & tired with your hair grown long
I was looking at you there and your face looked wrong
memory is a fickle siren’s song

In the gentle light as the morning nears
You don’t say a single word of the last two years
Where you were or when you reached the frontier

See you rugged hands and a silver knife
Twenty dollars in your hand that you hold so tight
All the evidence of your vagrant life
My brother you were gone

– Robin Pecknold

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