To boldly clap in a room full of nothing
|
you never know, it could be one of those
|
poignant evenings.
|
Museum's locked and it's long since past
|
closing,
|
you cannot know, you cannot not know
|
what you're knowing
|
what can you do, they're all gone
|
and we'll go too.
|
|
The curtain climbs over me every morning.
|
I don't know why I'm so immunized
|
against reforming.
|
To coldly slap at a face full of nothing,
|
you never know it could've been one of those
|
looks of longing.
|
What can you do, they're all gone
|
And we'll go too.
|
|
-----------------
|
We'll Go To
|
| Tragically Hip |
