Oh, wait for me, I fell behind 
three signs for services ago,
and some sarcastic satellite 
says I'm not anywhere. 

Spent every cent of your goodwill 
on fossil fuels and magazines,
so let this field of flax foreclose 
on everything I owe, 

and scratch Saskatchewan away, 
make Manitoba paper dolls, 
lift up a line from Highway One 
to tie Ontario. 

Oh, wait for me.