Oh, wait for me, I fell behind
three signs for services ago,
and some sarcastic satellite
says I'm not anywhere.
Spent every cent of your goodwill
on fossil fuels and magazines,
so let this field of flax foreclose
on everything I owe,
and scratch Saskatchewan away,
make Manitoba paper dolls,
lift up a line from Highway One
to tie Ontario.
Oh, wait for me.
