Told him I'd write 'bout it,
An underground garage, in the back seat,
Will he sleep? I doubt it,
In fact, it's now seven hours later,
He didn't want to sleep,
I smiled at him and said it was okay,
So then other things did our bodies reap,
Like a chat over hot dogs on the curb,
Musing o'er sc'narios,
Like Jays losing jobs 'fwe don't buy that cap,
Then poutine or 'za, yo?
They were good times,
So then, what did he learn?
When you sleep you don't know what you might miss,
And that, after all, his dad's not that stern.