Between the sunset and certified darkness Dusk comes on and I follow The exhaust from memory up to the end Of civil twilight

Sunken cheeks and slender hands Grocery lists and carbon Copied letters offer Silence for my small demands

Smoke half a smoke and ask St. Boniface and St. Vital Preserve me from my past Repair our potholes, prevent plant closures

Or recite the names of provinces and Hollywood actors Oh, Ontario; oh, Jennifer Jason Leigh But this part of the day bewilders me Streets slow down and ice over

Inside me ring Final words are boring, never touching Oh you whispered something in my ear I could not hear you

On a tunnel of silent shivering trees The ones you said you'd like to be And the birds that screamed at the sun Now buried deep below the ground

At some sad table littered with chipped plates With bad light in 48 frames from a movie on the cutting room floor You said, "True meaning would be dying with you" And though I wanted to, I did not smile

(3x) And I use the word you I don't know who I mean If this song was a painting it would be velveteen We sat on a beach at night

I clutch my stack of paper, press one to a chest Then watch it swoop and stutter to the ground I'm weary with right-angles, abbreviated daylight And waiting for a winter to be done

May the leaves puzzle out the canopy Shake and photosynthesize everything we're sorry for Into one long breath of air May the rings of tanglefoot and fiberglass

The ceaseless beatings of our histories, memories fill our lungs Drowning us in different futures, down another rung Well, my voice cracks with the thought of you, so innocent and blind So here's a little picture for your wallet and your mind

Anchorless In the small town that you lived and died in I've got an armchair from your family home Got your P.G. Wodehouse novels and your telephone

Last call for happiness I'm your dress near the back of your knees And your slip is showing I'm a float in a summer parade

All those promises to someone in a mirror you will find At your parents' house in 1989 Terrorized By the ruling party, calenders and commas

A boat abandoned in some backyard Anchorless Small town that you lived and died in Don't want to live and die here

Small town that you lived and died in Got an armchair from your family home Got your P.G. Wodehouse novels and your telephone Got your plates and stainless steel

Here's a marker Here's my naked skin Our exhibit A Put a small X where I lost my way

If I live long enough And the world doesn't end My wish will come true in a way And he'll die like we all die

I don't bother locking up The face before the doors slide apart Is hers the day they took away the candy Left gift-shop tulips to frame her alarm

On the last time We end this broadcast day On the last time We end this broadcast day