Turn home from bars and weaving closets
Full of stuttered turns when pedals redden roads
We`d pass through farms the orchards are aligned
It looks too slow as we lay against the floor
The green fury becomes a monument
Slips off the road and new years become new lines
We didn`t see the lights against the sky
We didn`t see we were too far up the road
It`s how Canadians must feel everything
they see is real
My palms were made to match my eyes
It`s how Canadians watch days
in a million different ways
And I am for the northern side
Watch the signs turn into lines