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.