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• Artiste: Metasciences (The)
• Titre: Up North
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Late last night I heard your windows slam The storm bolts flew Right off your porch. I called your mother She was tired and quiet And far away She had gone up north. To get away from The Midwest thick To catch up on her reading And to see her brothers She remarked on your spirits They were low when she left. In the morning You were on your steps You had a black eye And a bloody mouth I called your father He was on a trail A winding snail He had gone down south With the Trappist monks On a peace retreat They would pray every day From the book of Palms He would come back home A different man