Forget, Saskatchewan

And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep?	There is despair, Mr. President, in faces you don't see, in the places you don't visit in your shining city	Beautiful, in that way that space and any measure of emptiness is beautiful	wrap your tongues around truth
Canadian whisky	The future like another country, and a ticket in my hand

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