| Oh, City of | |
| Daughters, | |
| Is that what you wanted to be? | |
| Oh, City of | |
| Daughters, | |
| Is that what you wanted to be? | |
| Oh, City of | |
| Daughters, | |
| Is it not safe to say you've come when called? | |
| A minor point of contention: | |
| It's the pointlessness of the invention. | |
| Trust, there's no need to remind us | |
| We're all dying alone tonight! | |
| In a City of | |
| Daughters. | |
| Sister, I confess, | |
| I have forgotten just what it is that you wanted to be. | |
| Fluffing and a-folding those clothes that you were sold in | |
| To servicing what it is you always wanted to be. | |
| In Vancouver, things are simple when they fit you to a "T". | |
| Once again, you have refused the new pornographies | |
| A minor bone of contention: | |
| It's the soullessness of the convention. | |
| Rock 'n' Roll sure came through for you. | |
| Why would anybody want it to? | |
| What is it about music that lends itself so well | |
| To business-as-fucking-usual? | |
| A minor source of contention: | |
| The resourcelessness of the convention. | |
| Rock 'n' Roll sure came through for you. | |
| Why would anyone want it to | |
| When we can burn the living | |
| Proof, go! |
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