Thompson Northern winds will cut you Northern girls will gut you Leave you cold and empty Like a fish on the slab. Oh, she is like a snow goose Pale and rare and footloose Will the joys that tempt me Soon turn and kick and stab. In the dream I am running Down a street of molasses In the dream my feet gain no ground. I must take some measure To pursue my treasure Guided by confusion My compass through the storm. If I call her sister Manfully resist her Believe my own illusion Or will passions warm. In the dream I am running Down a street of molasses In the dream my feet gain no ground. If I call her lover Will I soon discover That her eye is taken By some fawning friend ? Then my glass would shatter And my mind would scatter Being so mistaken The world must end. In the dream I am running Down a street of molasses In the dream my feet gain no ground. In the dream I'm calling But there's never an answer In the dream my voice makes no sound. Northern winds will cut you Northern girls will gut you Leave you cold and empty Like a fish on the slab.