My back is aching from being bent
kneeling down to write our names in wet cement.
It’ll be there for eternity, decorating the houses both bought and rent.
Too bad I slipped and messed up the hand prints; what counts is the sentiment.

I should’ve been looking both ways
before I crossed every single street.
Regardless I trip, I tumble, and I sway
I think the problem’s within my feet.

I’m tied to you like a boat on the sea
to it’s dock; bobbing up and down endlessly.
Pushed towards you from the waves crashing,
like the boat; doomed if I’m ever cut free.

I’m burdened by games of black and white
and your determined to find a shade of grey.
We could find a way to win if we could place our pieces right
but everytime there’s a loss the board get tossed and thrown away.

I was walking down the city streets
making choices like Meryl Streep,
trying to hide a weakness to showcase a feat,
or maybe just choosing direction; actually not deep.
I was trying hard to just fill some seats
almost like I had some promise to keep,
handing out both set lists and call sheets
looking for any opportunity to sow so I could reap.

You’ve got 99 problems but your loyalty is one,
you’ll never solve them now the World Cup is done.
Achieved by your colours that aren’t so true,
by a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky I believe your reign is through.

You used to shoot and inevitably you’d score,
imagine the disappointment of each Gord.
Keep the red and white but add the blue,
betray a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky; no longer number one not even two.

Keep your guns and keep your hate,
Canada’s not your fifty-first state.
We’ve always been a Country, one that’s great.

Went to a room and ignored the sign,
now we’ve changed the labels and removed your wine.
Disappointed in what you would do,
to a National that once treasured you.
The sadness and anger only grew.

An apology that will come too late,
Canada will never be your fifty-first state.
Not up for discussion or debate.

A concept you should understand,
you can’t put a “for sale” sign on our land.
The death of a legend came from the hands
of a bad man and a bad plan.
No longer the greatest of all time
after you’ve committed the greatest of crimes.

We won’t take the tariffs or the bait,
Canada will never be your fifty first state.
We’ll cement the actions and the date.

So stay in exile as is it your fate,
Canada won’t be your fifty first state,
cause it’s the one, the one that’s great.

My dad spent most of his life
singing songs wishing to be a rockstar.
“Can’t get no satisfaction” and “Mack the knife”
a handful of applause from drunks in a dark bar.

The sights I hated to see
now the person I don’t wish to be,
my potential could be monumental
if I could just turn dreams to reality.
The days of a wasted youth
ignoring a tragic truth,
I could make history by solving a mystery
if I could only find the proof.

My mom’s favourite song was “Fast Car”
but at the funeral, I picked Fleetwood’s “Landslide.”
There was no point in highlighting an old scar,
some times and places, there’s just things you should hide.

The sights I hated to see
can’t be wiped from my memory,
and what I fear the most is that there’s no ghost
that has been haunting me.
Now I get the appeal of the drink
from the cabinet or underneath the sink,
without warning, about ten in the morning
it was worse than you could ever hope or think.

My feet pushed against the white floor board
and my back leaned up against the bed.
Thinking about how the surface was scored,
the colours mix; white, orange blue and red.
In the basement with my precious; my hoard,
with the knowledge no one would know if I were dead.
Suddenly it was a thought that I explored
that maybe I enjoyed that course instead.
And to the heights I once soared,
please tell me the best days are still ahead.

Another sunrise and sunset,
another pair of eyes filled with regret.
Who’s waiting for hope and luck to arrive at their front door,
but even if it came who’s to say they wouldn’t still expect more?
And would we even cast any blame,
if you’re angry that tomorrow came?

Time is cruel and time is no friend;
half were in school; the rest trying to meet an end.
As a sun will set a newborn life will fade,
with moments you can’t forget
and one’s you would never trade.
It’s hard not to feel the same;
to be angry that tomorrow came.

He said take a note and give me five
“no one gets out of here alive.”
Who do you want to be for the rest of your life?
“Just a reminder, you don’t live twice.”
They tell me to grin my teeth and bear it
soft demeanor but eyes like a knife.
It’s clear they don’t want me to share it;
my collection of troubles and strife.
They’ve got closed eyes and plugged ears,
talking over each word I try to speak.
While it all feels like endless years,
in truth it’s only been one week.
And the reality of it is actually quite tame
but still you get angry that tomorrow came.

It’s a hazy afternoon with the sun in the sky
and I’m standing in the gloom of someone else’s goodbye.
And I could paint a thousand pictures
and never get the landscape quite right,
just like adjusting and fixing the fixtures
but never obtaining the perfect light.
It seems so insanely mundane,
but I’m trying to not be angry, that tomorrow came.

You can’t cleanse the bad from the good
there will always be residue permanently,
and it’s not so simple to gain some wood
you’re always going to have to cut down a tree, eventually.
Make sure the earth will burn, with an untamed flame
The world continues to turn, regretful that tomorrow came.

She sits on sandy banks,
the most beautiful sight one could see.
I give the universe endless thanks
for bringing and gifting her to me.
We’re a perfect paradise,
she’s always calmed me to breathe.
It paid off that she rolled the dice,
I know she’s not one for betting.

I can see stars looking out our window;
they illuminate us warm in our bed.
Through the screen I hear the wind blow,
it’s like a lullaby playing in my head.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know,”
You’re in my veins as the blood I’ve always bled.

Warming hands and pulling at shades,
rolling in white sands and waves, cascades.
Toppling over all the sand castles that were made,
brushing fingers on grassy patches; admiring every blade.

Watching the summer wind whip your hair to kiss your face
I start to begin to put them back into place,
before I declare that the act is just a waste
as natural perfection is one of your many traits.

There’s no lies and no regrets,
just those sweet summer sunsets
and those relaxed and easy breaths,
you are the best soul I’ve ever met.
And we were acting like there were whales in Wasaga beach,
who says there wasn’t baby, maybe they were just out of reach.

Chin up Chuck; the girl broke your heart
you say “I don’t give a ****” but she tore you apart.
You think you’ll figure it out, and that she just might stay
but after the words you shout, she knows she has to go away.
Something’s you can’t get loose
something’s just get stuck.
You’ll wonder if it was love or abuse
but chin up, Chuck.

Chin up Chuck, you’ve been left in the dark
lost all of your luck but hope for a spark.
You think you’ll find a route, get out of it all alive,
drag and pull boot by boot, praying you might survive.
Something’s you can’t just find
something’s just get stuck.
Are you in the dark or are you blind?
Still chin up, Chuck.

Chin up Chuck; the world gives you quarrel
you’ve drowned in the muck and let go of each moral.
You think you’ll be missed, maybe seen as a
martyr,
in truth you’d be ****** because you’re only seen as a **** starter.
Something’s won’t go right
something’s just get stuck,
but you don’t ever give up the fight
because you’re Chin up Chuck.

Listening to Jimmy Buffet
while relaxing on the roof,
she says “I swear I could jump right off it,
because I believe that I am bulletproof.”
This prompts a needed conversation
about theoreticals and physics,
based on her lack of self preservation
soon it will be her grave I visit.

You turn pebbles into rocks
and you make roads into sidewalks,
while both are wrong I could take them on
but you are like the chains to my locks.

I was stumbling through the darkened hall
leaning up for support against the the wall,
And found myself in a dusty bathroom stall,
advertising numbers of some bird I heard I should call.
Give a penny for your thoughts,
I’m saving up for nothing good.
I beg “give it to me straight, doc”
as any good doctor should.

You turn pebbles into rocks
and you make roads into sidewalks,
and in my mind, how easily I find
a thick outline that’s drawn in chalk.

What a bone I’ve got to pick
too bad it’s chipped and it’s been ground.
I hope this situation doesn’t stick;
but it’s past it’s welcome stuck around.
And I’m greeted like an answering machine,
except no has any answers left for me.
It’s all just driven me right up the walls,
I keep saying “you’re killin’ me, smalls.”