Lyrics:

I held three strands
But I lost one Dark as the lands Surrounding Boston On the train that backscratched the windows
The backs of the houses, pulsing the rain glows
That sick man so shiny in his slump
Doubled over like a water pump
He was dribbling out from his nostrils Onto his ankles leaking like Aprils
Yeah the thaw had already begun
We could hear the earshot from your cabin In the holy boldness your cheeks purpled and pinked
There in the coldness with some sort of instinct
Oh the fluency, me with my hands cupped Catching currency that you made it erupt The quiet of spilling right after the stilling
Why it was chilling our hot window-silling I see your stature when breathing and turning
Smoking the black blur as if something's burning
Remember the gray-slate coming of some thrill The low sky of too-late up on Bunker Hill
And the whirling eddies sprayed off the semi's tail
The curling snow-traps of your hair
Feeling warm inside the swarms of hail The foreign planet of some diner we found there
So my brother and I saddle up some horse And watch the snow thinning with the thawing
Another will die, rattle me so coarse Will it leave me grinning or awing?
In Ontario