Vārdi:
Weakerthans The Left And Leaving

'm trying not to wonder where you are All this time lingers, undefined Someone choose who's left and who's leaving Memory will rust and erode into lists

on alcohol and irony. Get clobbered on by courtesy, in love with love, and lousy poetry. And I'm leaning on this broken fence between Past and Present tense. And

explain? Wish on everything. Pray that she remains proud and strange and so hopelessly hopeful. (Wishes and prayers are the way that we leave the lonely alone and

keep taxes down, and me and my anger sit folding a paper bird, letting the curtains turn to beating wings. Wish I had a socket-set to dismantle this morning. And

we're rolling neon lights and slinking purple skies squeeze out soft regrets from all our lives as i greet another door that opens in to that place that

you were four and can't remember. Where a small knife tears out those sloppy seams, and the silence knows what you silence means, and your metaphors (

A soft breeze with the slippery concrete black and full of muddy slush, contrasting with the hoarfrost, clean and hung on a tunnel of silent shivering