I used to have this recurring fantasy
Every time I crossed the Glenmore dam
I wondered what would happen to someone like me
If I fell in, would I sink or swim?
Now I slow down my bike every time that I approach the thing
And pedal myself across so cautiously
My eyes take in every little crack in the pavement of the path
I don't look out I don't look down I don't look back
Now I get on and off of every wrong bus in Winnipeg
And walk around lost like I used to do, back home
Sometimes I end up far from where I started from
But some days it's just nice to be alone
There isn't that same terror living with no relief
I feel it maybe existentially
It's more metaphorical than real, you see
If winter doesn't, summer will kill me
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