The Prescience of Dawn
The Weakerthans
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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 of nails
Or floating effortless
Over the apartments in a boat
And 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 into static and pretend that it's the sea
But four words fumble for the microphone
You should have known
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