all my friends are drunk and i am still so sober everyone is getting laid and i am getting nada today all the lights are out in February sky tonight i am going down to the riverside to watch them may they show me green give me rose any colour's charming i suppose that will do that will have to do all the trucks get stuck in the snow in the riverbank and my feet threaten to pull the same prank guess i've got myself to thank for going out in all the snowflakes, looking upward the darkness breaks an incision gets sliced through all that icy black so show yourself to me trailing all your colours your dress of green, fringed with pink, let's dance like lovers in violet i don't care what that groundhog may or may not have seen i would weather six more weeks of winter if i could see the aurora like this one more time i would weather six weeks without love all in all it's been a good one all in all it's been a pretty good valentine's day. and i don't care i don't care i'll just trip the light fantastic on my own i will weather six weeks without love.

o Albertan where did you sleep last night (who was with you) it's been so long since you've been round o Albertan where has the time (keep it with you) the frontier days are gone by so i'm hoping you don't forget where you're from and you remember more than grain silos and oil drums in the mountains of the yukon we met the winter sun red like a low-lit cigarette and below, the snow cracking under our footsteps it was there you said we're being born and we're dyin at the same time; while sun sets it rises and it goes and it goes and it goes on like this, all season long from the night there comes a time where the darkness does give way to a cramped space where the dawn and dusk embrace slowly they melt into each other like this for three hours o Albertan where are you sleeping now? (where is your home) is it in the things you carry 'round? the little pieces like the pebbles caught between the treads in your shoes these tiny gifts: these trinkets from the landscape you walked through the mountains you found breathing space and now you're rethinking your relationship with place i mean like how being home doesn't need to be a static state now you've packed up your pens and moved to Vancouver where the sun hides til the winter is over and it goes and it goes and it wraps itself all up in a shroud of fog once you'd run with the wolves and chased all the ore out of the ground where the river does break up now you've gone and you've traded it all for concrete houses and the suburban basements that's where you lay your head now that you've said "goodbye" to the mountains say "farewell" to the prairies but that don't mean you can't carry them with you somehow.

morning; the light is young our bodies young dawning realization: our souls are old our hearts are frozen and they will stay frozen while the ground does thaw and they will stay cold while the ice does melt around us but winter turning to spring won't change us won't rearrange the pieces of our hearts they'll stay cold and pure and we won't lose our heads the town this town won't change us the wind will not shake at the cabin door our hearts trapped inside with the stale air freezing our limbs in place we succumb to stasis hardening our hearts to stone if only glaciers would take their place because c/fmaj7/am/am-f i wish i were more like the ice breaking off into the fresh sunlight stealing more than a glimpse in the ocean's eyes becoming tears in the ocean's eyes becoming in the new sunrise, at the dawn of spring becoming the mountain stream becoming ice again becoming til the winter's end becoming until the spring comes back around and the circle starts again and always becoming.

we left Dartmouth with the ocean on our minds we left Nova Scotia with the ocean on our minds we left town with our rain boots on one look behind us and the sea was gone uh huh went to Sackville with textbooks on your minds off to Vancouver with a pencil case on mine we shared letters and we rambled on before we knew it, summer had come uh huh so cover me in seaweed baby the ocean wants my ukulele so throw it in but spare your mandolin went to the party with a bottle in your hand went to the party with a sharpie in your other hand signed a sock, spelled our band name wrong, i guess we all got pretty drunk uh huh i went to the Yukon with the frontier on my mind climbed the mountain heard the calls of the wild i went to Jack London's house, wrote a folk song on his couch uh huh so cover me in seaweed baby the ocean wants my ukulele i'm so glad to know 'ya together we'll forget about Manitoba and if music is honey then let's all be bees head on down to the hive and sing nobody forget about the AFB uh huh uh huh uh huh my darling uh huh uh huh uh huh.

dim lights on the dockyards tonight and just the two of us, alone watching them i hope this rain doesn't pick up we've still got yarn bombs left to place; knit sweaters for the saplings in the public gardens where she'd skip class to spend spring days with me and make our own examinations of each other after tonight we're lonely lovers once again She's leaving Hali she's leaving her new-found half-home she's gotta depart for the summer go back to Toronto and everyone's giving up their sweaters and everyone's giving up their sweaters and everyone's giving up their sweaters for shorts and t-shirts and warmer weather i'm watching the harbour i'm watching her chest rise and fall with the waves that enter the bay it's here that i must stay for the summer i've got a job here i've got a bedroom at my mother's place i've got my friends and relations so we'll try not to get too entangled in each other but after all we're just lonely lovers and after tonight... there are trains to catch there are busses to take there are borders to go break down there are bridges to make across the country from Ontario Place back to Alderney Landing we'll communicate there will be phones to dial there will be letters to stamp but for now the rain soaks my sweater as i lie next to her she's growing farther away She's leaving Hali she's leaving her new-found half-home she's gotta depart for the summer go back to Toronto now everyone's giving up their sweaters now everyone's giving up their sweaters and i would give up my sweater to keep her warm let it be my arms let it never leave her.

i am a plant but what's more i'm a man and i will take root wherever i stand ready the troops: the seed brigades then i'll launch my salvos off into the glades and the warm spring air yes the warm spring air i am no peacock but you'll notice me as i cast off my plumage to the oxygen seas go forth my sons and go forth all of you daughters may you colonize islands may you traverse these uncharted waters thru the warm spring air yes the warm spring air i will dig, and i will take my rightful place in your garden with the roses and their thorns and the pebbles i will bask in the warm spring air and i will thrive in the warm spring air and i will rise with the warm spring air and i will die in the cool fall breeze