Our lives are measured by the weekend
Said a weatherman to an anchor friend
Feels like more if it feels like nothing
And I'm predicting rain again
I wore my tread out on your highway
A rusted car parked in your driveway
But neck to back, the fit's amazing
Is this a song or is this a painting?
Swans are fainting
Even with the spotlights on them
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