Falling North, of the Arctic Circle inside of you,
|
The bleakness, the cold eye of ice in you.
|
Tundra-heart, you banish all memories, all feeling,
|
You¡¯re a distant cold-shoulder, I¡¯m reeling.
|
|
Oh, we¡¯re as dead as doors, we¡¯re as dead as ashes,
|
Walking through your Manitoba, walking through your Manitoba.
|
|
(oh, oh, oh, oh)
|
|
Therapy, that big trigger-word that changes you,
|
And touches the bulls-eye of rage in you.
|
What¡¯s your fear?
|
Remembering the abandoned little child,
|
Retreating in books while your father¡¯s wild,
|
|
Oh, we¡¯re as dead as doors, we¡¯re as dead as ashes,
|
Walking through your Manitoba, walking through your Manitoba
|
Oh, we¡¯re as dead as doors, we¡¯re as dead as ashes,
|
Walking through your Manitoba, walking through your Manitoba.
|
(oh, oh, oh, oh)
|
|
Right by your side, naked and wide,
|
I feel my insides, start to come up inside my mouth.
|
It¡¯s what I give, into this sieve,
|
It¡¯s worse than lonely,
|
It¡¯s hot tar on my innocence.
|
|
We¡¯re as dead as doors, we¡¯re as dead as ashes,
|
Walking through your Manitoba, walking through your Manitoba,
|
We¡¯re as dead as doors, we¡¯re as dead as ashes,
|
Walking through your Manitoba, walking through your Manitoba,
|
We¡¯re as dead as doors, we¡¯re as dead as ashes,
|
Walking through your Manitoba, walking through your Manitoba.
|
|
It¡¯s what I give, into this sieve, it¡¯s worse than lonely,
|
It¡¯s hot tar on my innocence,
|
Right by your side, naked and wide,
|
It¡¯s worse than lonely, it¡¯s hot tar on my innocence.
|
|
-----------------
|
Manitoba
|
| Paula Cole |
