Our lives are measured by the weekends Said a weatherman to an anchor friend Feels like more if it feels like nothing And i am predicting rain again I wore my tread out on your highway A rusted care parked in your driveway But neck to back The fit's amazing Was this a song? Or is this a painting? The swans are fainting Even with the spotlights on them The 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