Lyrics
Garage sale, Saturday
I need to pay
My heart's outstanding bills
A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch
Some plastic daffodils
The cutlery and coffee cups I stole from all-night restaurants
A sense of wonder only slightly used
A year or two to haunt you in the dark
For a phone call from far away
With a "Hi, how are you today?"
And a sign, "Recovery comes to the broken ones"
Wage slave forty-hour work week weighs
A thousand kilograms
So bend your knees, comes with a free fake smile
For all your dumb demands
The cordless razor that my father bought
When I turned 17
The puke-green sofa, and the outline too
A complicated dream of dignity
For a laugh, too loud and too long
Or a place where awkward belong
And a sign, "Recovery comes to the broken ones"
To the broken ones
To the broken ones
For the broken ones
Or best offer