Take a tip from the cheering squad,
They say: ‘get your money back’;
Sell the things that you’re storing in your basement stash.
Thought you’d live here your whole damn life,
Yeah,
your futility
Trapping you in years and years of
Pointless therapy.
Cool breeze and those marks on your knees,
Let’s go,
fly to Mexico,
San Andreas,
San Juan,
or San Francisco.
Run for cover in companions-in-arms – but hey –
Where’re your brothers at?
This is new but it feels like -
Old,
old hat.
We won’t last the winter,
We won’t make it through,
Cold nights in Toronto,
Won’t be ending soon.