Tekster: Weakerthans. Reconstruction Site. The Prescience Of Dawn.

the sirens woke me up again
i know they're coming for me someday just a matter of when
count to 25 and yawn
touch the clock and turn my back against the dawn
and hope for that one dream of hardware stores with checkered floors
and buckets full with nails
we're floating effortless over the apartment to the boat
i'm rowing past the office windows

mother, mother may i cry?
father, will you teach me how to die the right way someday?
i don't want a second chance
to turn my stuttering reluctance into romance
with these documents and kindergarten anthems
with my drunken liturgies
tune the fm in to static and pretend it's the sea
but four words fumble for the microphone
you should of known
you should of known