Sangtekst: Weakerthans. Reconstruction Site. Hospital Vespers.

Doctors played your dosage like a card trick. Scrabbled down the hallways yelling Yahtzee. I brought books on Hopper, and the Artic, something called "The Politics Of Lonely," a toothbrush and a quick-pick with the plus. You tried not to roll your sunken eyes and said "Hey can you help me, I can't reach it." Pointed at the camera in the ceiling. I climbed up, blocked it so they couldn't see. Turned to find you out of bed, and kneeling. Before the nurses came, took you away, I stood there on a chair and watched you pray