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Staying stoned on Highway 401 |
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In a band of southern Ontario bastard sons |
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I let my soul slip into the sun |
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and watched it sink just over Kingston |
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I left my heart in Old Montreal |
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ou les femme sont belle and their legs so long |
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I'm running on empty but still running on |
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Into the red flaming edges with no redemption song |
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Don't the houses all look haunted in every farm we pass |
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All the crumbling beauties each new division's trash |
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We don't pay for our sins, no god saves our souls |
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In the name of the daughters and sons of the holy smoke |
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And the holy smoke with no redemption song |
