The sirens woke me up again
I know their coming for me someday, just a matter of when
Count to 25 and yawn
Touch the clock and turn my back against the dawn and hope for,

That one dream
Of hardware stores with checkered floors
and buckets full of nails
Or floating effortless, over the apartment in a boat
and rowing past the office windows

Mother, Mother may I cry
Father will you teach me how to die the right way someday
I don't want a second chance
to turn my stuttering reluctance into romance, with these

Documents and kindergarden anthems
with my drunken liturgies
Tune the FM into static
and pretend that it's the sea

But four words fumble for the microphone:
You should have known
You should have known

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