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Dial tones and license plates, and words you didn't choose. Everything the day's too small to hold, spills onto the dusk, and shortens the evening's feuds. So you fumble for a voice, and sing happy birthday. Read it to yourself again; stories always end the same. He can't stay but she won't run; the fear is where they're calling from. Stunts the blood from countless tiny cuts, but we're all out of bandages. The heater's rattle taunt. Sifting through translucent shards of glass, looking for the filament, that lit the life you want. So you stumble for the phone, grasp with chord and you pull. Will your leadership complain, stories always end the same. She can't stay but he won't run; the fear is where they're calling from. Afraid is where you're calling from. Afraid is where we lived for far too long.  More Weakerthans, The Song Lyrics
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