I moved away from Canada in nineteen-eighty-five:

I wanted to see how the other half survived;

The Brits were somewhat welcoming to me,

There were so many places I wanted to be.

But I didn’t realize how much the thread comes apart

When one forgets to send love home from the heart

And no amount of patching the great big gaping hole

Can make things right again, to make things whole.

I am a stranger to my homeland,

I never did live in Guelph;

I’m a stranger to my loved ones,

I’m a stranger to myself.

So much has happened in those intervening years:

There were so many circumstances, so many tears.

And I truly thought that I could pick up the missing thread

To make things right again, to remake a marital bed.

But time moves on, and even my own sweet life

Is different now, I’ve taken another wife;

No more can I look back to see what has gone wrong,

No more can I be sure of where I actually belong.

I am a stranger to my homeland,

I’m no more in perfect health;

I’m a stranger to my old best friends,

I’m a stranger to myself.