‌ditty for moya Godspeed You! Black Emperor

One, two, three, four

Last week I was the mayor's projectionist
I projected for him many films of mountains
He took his right hand straight between his legs
And stroked himself until he bled

I did not complain
The pay was good and I slept well
No dreams

Our mayor hid his loneliness well
When he died, we had the rain
The mothers cried, the daughters waved