Whoever said April's the cruelest month,
Well, he forgot to mention all the others.
So, let's forgive his mistakes now
And then we'll add in all our favorites.
Yeah, I know, I talk a lot about my personal disasters
But if you wanted a wasteland,
You would've been better off in December.
"Welcome To Hell," the sign should read,
Everything in this town is either brittle or breaking.
Like it's been sighing under pressure for years,
Because the sky's been leaning in way too closely.
And now it's the same color grey as the dirty snow
We've been shoving to the side of the road
But we'll calm down by singing songs about Texas
Even though we've never even been to the state line
We'll come up with code names and a language
We'll come up gasping for air
When the roots collect snow, the leaves are gone
The world forgets how to grow
Oh the humanity of it all!
And maybe when the snow melts,
Somewhere, you'll find me lying in the wreckage
Weeds growing around my ankles
Flowers bloom in sunlight
Fingernails can only dig so far through the dirt
So manifest destiny will take me through to the surface
And if winter couldn't leave fast enough
We're on a slippery slope back to summer
You could ask anyone and they'd tell you the same thing --
It's all about momentum