Broken fingers talk
they grasp at straws
Thougth I heard a voice in there
There's no one there at all
Oh, what have we done
to come to this?
Huddled on some foreign shore
spanning the abyss

Wake up any afternoon
It's so hard to leave the bed
When you look up from the mud
you get kicked right in thr head

Broken fingers talk
They tell us what to do
Guess I'll go out for a walk
It must be after two
Underneath grey Belgian skies
the ground is slick and wet
There must be someplace else to live
I haven't found it yet

Blaine Reininger "Broken Fingers"