Wolf Parade - You are a runner and I am my fathers son

Who the fuck are you?

Oh, I know.

Your an Ex-wife from an Ex-Life and this modern love of ours died in a modern age, so it's not your voice, but words on a screen that asks me what my problem is before you give me a right clicked goodbye.

Why are they all like this? Why do they run farther than guns will go until they decide it's safe enough to turn around and reload and unload whatever 30 second clip of a Wolf Parade song they have directly into my chest while screaming "I'll take you where nobody knows you, and nobody gives a damn!"

You ever walk the sidewalks of New Yorks East Village with a bullet in your stomach and a 12% IPA in your glass and not give a flying fuck about how you delicately put... "instead of chilling in dorm rooms you chill in washington square park, instead of going to stupid flip cup parties you go to clubs and lounges, instead of malls you go to thrift stores" and ask yourself, as your best friend dials 911 and think, she's 18 years old, she doesn't understand, she doesn't know that these things aren't who you are anymore, that New York is no longer the mythical place you've always thought about, when you can only smell it's rotten river separate your two states and you thank god you are on the east side of it. She hasn't experienced life as you have, she hasn't had her chance yet, be kind old man. All she can do is speak, and write, and squeeze triggers from guns with bullets that aren't big enough to kill.