They're tearing up streets again.
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They're building a new hotel.
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The Mayor's out killing kids to keep taxes down,
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and me and my anger sit folding a paper bird,
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letting the curtains turn to beating wings.
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Wish I had a socket-set to dismantle this morning.
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And just one pair of clean socks.
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And a photo of you.
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When you get off work tonight,
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meet me at the construction site,
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and we'll write some notes to tape to the heavy machines,
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like "We hope they treat you well. Hope you don't work too hard.
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We hope you get to be happy sometimes."
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Bring your swiss-army knife, and a bottle of something,
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and I'll bring some spraypaint and a new deck of cards.
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Hey I found the safest place to keep all our tenderness.
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Keep all those bad ideas. Keep all our hope.
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It's here in the smallest bones, the feet and the inner-ear.
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It's such an enormous thing to walk and to listen.
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I'd like to fall asleep to the beat of you breathing
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in a room near a truckstop on a highway somewhere.
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You are a radio. You are an open door.
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I am a faulty string of blue christmas lights.
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You swim through frequencies.
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You let that stranger in, as I'm blinking off and on and off again.
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We've got a lot of time.
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Or maybe we don't, but I'd like to think so, so let me pretend.
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These are my favourite chords.
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I know you like them too.
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When I get a new guitar, you could have this one.
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And sing me a lullaby.
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Sing me the alphabet.
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Sing me a story I haven't heard yet.
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My Favourite Chords
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The Weakerthans |