mmmm weaker...thans.... mmmmm

Weakerthans, wow. Their lyrics are the type of poetry I want to be able to write. And they set that to music... well???? Heart much. Also, the lead singer is from Propagandhi. And they have a song in reference to curling... Oh-Em-Gee. I think Sarah would like them. Below are some of the lines I really like from their songs rearranged. Enjoy.
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Went absent cases down the stairs
Into the parking lot out back
A burst of moon
A blast of air
An understanding somewhere

…

We could walk to where these streets get pulled together
Blinking, lined with gravel, shoulder squared towards an end
Where the radio resounds from doppling traffic
Where the power lines steal lessons from the hourly news

Depluralize our casualties, drown the generals out in static
We turn and watch our city sprawl and send us signals in the glow
Of night windows

…

Know the things we need to say
We'd said already anyways
By parallelograms of light
On walls that we repainted white

…

After scrapping with the ferals and the tabby,
Let you brush my matted fur
How I'd knead into your chest while you were sleeping
Shallow breathing made me purr
…
But I can't remember the sound that you found for me

My confusion-cornered commuters are cursing the cold away
As December tries to dissemble the length of their working day
And they bite their mitts off to show me transfers, deposit change
and I can't stop finding your face in their faces, all rearranged
and angry like you never were.

...

"Why, why can't I draw right up to what I want to say?"
"Why can't I ever stop where I want to stay?"
I slide right through the day, I'm always throwing hack weight

…
The graphs in the board room show
by the time that the market opens in Tokyo,
I'll be worthless
…

Then idle in some parking lot, smoke half a smoke and ask
St. Boniface and St. Vital, preserve me from my past
Repair our potholes, prevent plant closures
and if they remember me at all, make them remember me
as more than a queer experiment, more than a diagram in their quarterly
Make them remember me
…

I'll listen to the south winds sigh with rumors and regrets
And I don't want to talk about it anymore
…

He looked more like our fathers
Not a goalie, player, athlete period
Smoke, half-ash, stuck in that permanent smirk.
…

We can wish on
The pop of a lightbulb
Or those photos
Lying yellow and curled
Loose in boxes
Near abandoned electronics
In the corners of the basements
Of the world