great balls of light thrown up
Knowing there was someone at the
Who stood watching,
And as the great balls of light
Fell from the sky
This magical, conjuring wizard
Hurled them into the sky
We are this set of rogues.
We are this dangerous Bixi gang.
We are every pink bauble on Saint- Laurent.
We will travel your streets for art,
And stare at your murals until we suck the paint dry.
We will breathe your festival air,
And reap the rewards of its free festivities.
We are breathing your clean city,
And our eyes are pointed towards the sky,
Because on our travels yet,
Never did we feel so close to home.
And on Saint-Denis
You will still find me hanging
In the brightly coloured lights.