There's blood in the sink, and he's plunging his wrists in.
|
A hangover halo is washing away.
|
Mechanic-school dropout stares into the mirror,
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stands up in his derelict daydreams.
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Always too tall,
|
always walked around wearing a smile that was never quite sure of itself.
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Planning a future of failures inflicted in phone calls
|
from strip clubs and bail bonds.
|
There's a light left on.
|
There's a pace to our direction.
|
There's a movie-still of a heart I'd like to mention.
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Don't give me that look,
|
I looked harder than most did,
|
let details like sharp nails punch holes in my shoes.
|
Soft-traced to frown as I put the receiver down.
|
Where do I go for a pardon?
|
There's a light left on.
|
There's a pace to our direction.
|
There's a movie-still of a heart I'd like to mention.
|
We're listing what's left: a signed Slayer t-shirt,
|
a car up on blocks in his mother's back yard.
|
|
-----------------
|
History To The Defeated
|
| The Weakerthans |
