the sirens woke me up again i know they're 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 with nails we're floating effortless over the apartment to the boat i'm 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 kindergarten anthems with my drunken liturgies tune the fm in to static and pretend it's the sea but four words fumble for the microphone you should of known you should of known