Jul 2016
In a town where it's always after hours
Where progress and time mean nothing
Neon lighting and sparrows fighting
The call of simplicity becomes enlighting
Streets that remain quiet, Friday nights past 11
Where the bay meets the loyalist man
While fog creeps its way across the land
And cellos play to the tune of a lonely band
Tomorrow night is winding down
As is my familiar little town
Draining away with the rest of the province
Until there is nothing
Save the sound of waves upon the shore
Where progress and time mean nothing
Neon lighting and sparrows fighting
The call of simplicity becomes enlighting
Streets that remain quiet, Friday nights past 11
Where the bay meets the loyalist man
While fog creeps its way across the land
And cellos play to the tune of a lonely band
Tomorrow night is winding down
As is my familiar little town
Draining away with the rest of the province
Until there is nothing
Save the sound of waves upon the shore
To the quiet city in the quiet province
Which becomes more and more quiet every time I return
Those tags certainly encompass the range of emotions people have regarding such a place
Which becomes more and more quiet every time I return
Those tags certainly encompass the range of emotions people have regarding such a place
