Testi:
Weakerthans The

They called here to tell me that your're finally dying, through a veil of childish cries. Southern Manitoba prairie's pulling at the pant leg of your

I changed the oils and oiled the squeaks, Patched the holes and fluid leaks, Left dusk beneath a diabetic moon And way to take the TV crews across the

Measure me in metered lines, in one decisive stare, the time it takes to get from here to there. My ribs that show through t-shirts and these shoes I

He looked more like our fathers Not a goalie, player, athlete period Smoke, half-ash, stuck in that permanent smirk. Tugging jersey around the beer

Her body is a difficult sister, and she loves her, and hides her somewhere in herself safe from harm. She's barely coasting into a paycheque, stuck on

Garage Sale. Saturday. I need to pay my heart's outstanding bills. A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch, some plastic daffodils. The cutlery and coffee

Had one of those days when you want to try heroin, drunk driving, some form of soft suicide. Sitting in silence and staring at ceilings or peeling the

Takes a dried up ball-point, lemon juice and water, keeps a diary invisibly In the kitchen corner of a basement bachelor suite there's a certain search

They're tearing up streets again. They're building a new hotel. The Mayor's out killing kids to keep taxes down, and me and my anger sit folding a paper