This spring made winter an insulting opening offer down the passing lane
It's getting harder to negotiate, thawing out and icing up again
Past the Mint, where a circle of provincial flags are flagging in the front yard
I'm tired of trying to make us think that it hasn't always been so hard

The sky looks sea-sick on the boxcar sway
Where the Atlantic and Pacific are the very same far away

So the sun pulls me out a bit and lets me go, I'm a vacuum power cord
In the back of that van full of kids, cleaning carpets for the Lord
And I make a little list of sounds I found have comforted us in the past
The roar of the rumble strips and the Mennonite meter of the flood forecast

Oh, how the wind strums on those signs that say
The Atlantic and Pacific are the very same far away

Steer this boat around the slowplow spray
While the Atlantic and Pacific are the very same far away