I got a bit of money, with not much to show.
I got a few friends, with no place to go.
Living in a home, where the coffee is cold.
Getting drunk, getting stoned, yeah i’m getting old.
Hanging out, with the pigeons and the black crows.
Sitting on the building, hundreds in a row.
We all try to hold on, let go and fall.
The city glows at dawn, sunrise in Montreal.

Old school bike, along the Lachine canal.
Riding for like, miles and miles and miles.
Into the sunset into the sunrise a trip to the other side.
Hold on tight, and close your eyes.
I lie on my back, stare straight into the sky.
Watch the clouds, slowly drift on by.
Analyze the mind state, open wide and take dive.
Escape from reality, and truly feel alive.
Deep inside of my own skull, I found.
That I keep warm, cups of coffee, and ink by the pound.
A full ashtray and empty bottles of wine.
Good times with friends and family and a couple of rhymes.
Books of poetry, papers full of notes.
Portraits of nobody, and Jim Morrison quotes.
Paint splattered across the horizon, illuminate the skyline.
It’s never too late to stop, but sometimes...
You just gotta keep going …
And remember there will always be a sunrise, in the morning.

I got a bit of money, with not much to show.
I got a few friends, with no place to go.
Living in a home, where the coffee is cold.
Getting drunk, getting stoned, yeah i’m getting old.
Hanging out, with the pigeons and the black crows.
Sitting on the building, hundreds in a row.
We all try to hold on, let go and fall.
The city glows at dawn, sunrise in Montreal.