I Wish You Were a Hero, Wish You'd Make My Bet

I wish you were a hero, wish you'd make my bet. In my dirty mouth, pretty little head. But where's your mother? Fall down, dead. By the time they leave the warehouse, it is night. Or maybe the sun has just set early. The sunrise that morning had been particularly loud and strenuous. You know, says the man who is not short, looking down at his crossword. I worry every time that I'm not going to finish these when I start them.