Jesus Christ, it is Saturday and there are jackhammers blasting the asphalt in front of our house. The frame of the house is shaking. The cat hiding behind my books is shaking. I haven't slept except in naps since Sunday. How can this be legal? At nine in the morning on a weekend, even people who aren't us are asleep.
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- 1: Well, you can't tell much from faces
- 2: Be my hand on the oar to row to eternity
- 3: Now I'm walking round the city just waiting to come to
- 4: You know this city like the back of your hand, but deep roots are holding me down
- 5: Here we are in the summer rain again
- 6: You're on, music master
- 7: To cormorant to samphire to plover
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