(Originally by The Weakerthans)

Why don't you ever want to play?
I'm tired of this piece of string.
You sleep as much as I do now,
And you don't eat much of anything.
I don't know who you're talking to;
I made a search through every room,
But all I found was dust that moved
In shadows of the afternoon.

So listen, all those bitter songs you sing?
They're not helping anything.
They won't make you strong.

So, we should open up the house,
Invite the tabby two doors down.
You could ask your sister if
She doesn't bring her basset hound.
We'll ask the things we shouldn't miss:
For tape-hiss and the Modern Man,
For the Cold War and card catalogues
To come and save us if they can.

For girly drinks and parlor games,
And we'll pass around the easy lie
Of absolutely no regrets,
And later maybe we could try
To let your losses dangle off
The sharp end of the century,
Talk about the weather, or
How the weather used to be.

And I'll cater with all the birds that I can kill.
Let their tiny feathers fill your disappointment.
Lie down; lick the sorrow from your skin,
Scratch the terror and begin
To believe you're strong.

All you ever want to do is drink and watch TV,
And frankly that thing doesn't really interest me.
I swear I'm going to bite you hard
And taste your tinny blood
If you don't stop the self-defeating lies
You've been repeating since the day you brought me home.
I know you're strong.