Lyrics |
garage sale. saturday. i need to pay my heart's outstanding bills a cracked up compass and a pocket watch some plastic daffodils the cutlery and coffee cups i stole from all night restaurants a sense of wonder only slightly used a year or two to haunt you in the dark for a phone call from far away with a "hi, how are you today?" and a sign recovery comes to the broken ones a wage-slave forty-hour work week weighs a thousand kilograms so bend your knees comes with a free fake smile for all your dumb demands the cordless razor that my father bought when i turned 17 a puke green sofa, and the outline to a complicated dream of dignity for a laugh, too loud and too long for a place where awkward belongs and a sign recovery comes to the broken ones. to the broken ones. to the broken ones for the broken ones "our best offer"
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