Poem or Lyrics in Montreal in Canada

In this place we smell its scent of bleach,

in repose we lay, machine fights beast,

drums its rhythms on our breast

in its steel we lay down to rest

in its wires we lay our heads to rest.

Dedicate what we make
to a future we don't own,

dedicate it all
to the past we've known,

in a house so cruel and full of light,

in shaky hills and underground

frozen still and in these songs.

There are two souls in our songs,

three souls in our songs,

we have no soul to say just what we've done,

no soul can explain what we've done.