A perfect little song.

[thickets]

Joanna Newsom - Jackrabbits

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I was tired of being drunk.
My face cracked like a joke.
So I swung through here
like a brace of jackrabbits,
with their necks all broke.


I stumbled at the door with my boot.
I knocked against the jamb.
I scrabbled at your chest, like a mute,
with my fists of ham,
trying to tell you, I can --
I can love you again;
love you again.

I'm squinting towards the East.
My faith makes me a dope.
But you can take my hand,
in the darkness, darling,
like a length of rope.
I shaped up overnight, you know,
the day after she died.
When I saw my heart --
and I'll tell you, darling,
it was open wide,
what with telling you --
I am telling you I can --
I can love you again;
love you again.

It can have no bounds, you know.
It can have no end.
You can take my hand
in the darkness, darling,
when you need a friend.
And it can change in shape, or form,
but never change in size.
The water, it runs deep, my darling,
where it don't run wide.

The feather of a hawk was bound,
bound around my neck;
a poultice made of fig,
the eager little vultures pecked.
And a verse I read in jest
in Matthew spoke to me:
said "There's a flame that moves
like a low-down pest
and says, You will be free."

Only, tell me that I can --
tell me that I can:
I can love you again;
love you again.