Propagandhi Gifts Letras:
Wake up, coughing, tired, with my face in my
hands, staring at the window as the sunlight
demands action. All the energy it takes to close
these bedroom blinds. Wrote this selfish sadness
on a bathroom wall, spent half the span of some
lost culture's rise and fall, but I'm as clueless
as a drooling four year old. Still hoping I might
find the capacity to let you know I know you're
lonely. So here's the last call for regrets, a
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final slow dance through the days that we all hold
on to. Here's the promises I've made, tied too
tight to undo. An unwrapped gift from me to you.
All the slightly insane on the 18 North Main,
reaching for a small-town downtown, night rain,
nothing I could say could be worth saying anyway
today. Like "Hey, whatever happened to what's that
guys' name?", we get a little older and it looks
the same: askance. Excuse my failing sense of
humour. Here's the promises I've made; a razor
blade and this broken piece of chain. A history
left to rust out in the rain.
Letras: Gifts Propagandhi [final]