Our lives are measured by the weekends
Said a weatherman to an anchor friend
Feels like more if it feels like nothing
And i am predicting rain again
I wore my tread out on your highway
A rusted care parked in your driveway
But neck to back
The fit's amazing
Was this a song?
Or is this a painting?
The swans are fainting
Even with the spotlights on them
The swans are fainting
Should we call the doctor in?
In the bars and the ticket lines
Black strawberries looked so fine
But when the fruit was pressed to wine
We could not be satisfied
Swans are fainting
Even with the spotlights on them
Swans are fainting