Artista: The Weakerthans
  Canción: Reconstruction Site

I'm lost. I'm afraid.
A frayed rope tying down a leaky boat to the roof of a car
on the road in the dark, and it's snowing.
If I'm more, then it means less.
Last call for happiness.
I'm your dress near the back of your knees and your slip is showing.
I'm afloat.
A float in a summer parade, up the street in the town that you were born in.
With a girl at the top wearing tulle,
and a Miss Somewhere sash, waving like the queen.
Beauty's just another word I'm never certain how to spell.
Go tell the nurse to turn the TV back on, and throw away my misery.
It never meant that much to me.
It never sent a Get Well card.
I broke like a bad joke somebody's uncle told at a wedding reception in 1972,
where a little boy under a table with cake in his hair
stared at the grown-up feet as they danced and swayed.
And his father laughed and talked on the long ride home.
And his mother laughed and talked on the long ride home.
And he thought about how everyone dies someday,
and when tomorrow gets here where will yesterday be.
And fell asleep in his brand-new winter coat.
Buy me a shiny new machine that runs on lies and gasoline,
and all those batteries we stole from smoke-alarms,
and disassembles my despair.
It never took me anywhere.
It never once bought me a drink.