To ni Kanada, pa vendar.

Redki, a lepi so trenutki, ko neka pesem tako popolno opiše počutje nekega trenutka v času. Preprosta, nežna, dovzetna, skorajda resignirana. V tem trenutku je vsakdo John K. Samson in vsak domači kraj je Winnipeg. Ljubezen, ki je tako grenka, pa vendar vseobsegajoča. Umazane preproge, prazni pločniki, škatla vžigalic. O vetru, o snegu ni govora, pa ju vendar čutiš na svoji koži. Hladno je; to je gotovo. Veter pa prinaša piš zgodovine, katere groba prisotnost se odslika v zavrženih rojstnodnevnih voščilnicah. Ta preteklost je dvomestna, a neskončna. Iz sedanjosti v prihodnost pa si upamo le v previdnem štiričetrtinskem taktu.

My city's still breathing, but barely, it's true

Through buildings gone missing like teeth

The sidewalks are watching me think about you
Sparkled with broken glass

I'm back with scars to show

Back with the streets I know
Will never take me anywhere but here

The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand

The strangers whose faces I know

We meet here for our dress rehearsal to say,

"I wanted it this way"
 

Wait for the year to drown

Spring forward, fall back down

I'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

Of all that you gave me

A blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest

The best part of lonely

Duct tape and soldered wires
New words for old desires
And every birthday card I threw away

I wait in 4/4 time

Count yellow highway lines

That you're relying on to lead you home