There’s a place, I’ve never been With soft-lit living rooms and kitchens sweet, reeking cinnamon There’s a light, I’ve never seen Kept on hopelessly, guiding home the restless one who left there
And if it gets cold in Canada, where will I run?
There’s a curse, I never caught Sentenced to be stuck like all the ghosts who haunt the city hallways There’s a man going north Running fast from all the hound dogs panting wild along his foot paths
And if it gets cold in Canada, where will I run?
I’m pledging my allegiance to these reasons why I’m not already gone
There’s a bird, in the wind Helpless to help which way he will blow and I am too.
