"...Lets go to the park
Lets go watch 'em floodin'
Out there after dark
Don't have to think of nothin'

Gord once described the song as the sound of the average Kingston kid looking to kill an average winter night. When there's nothing to do, you can always head down to the local park and watch the city's crew flood the makeshift hockey rink. Bathed in the beams of those erect bleacher spotlights, the rink and the breath of those on it can seem contained in a cocoon of  cascading beams. The bright area of the rink ends abruptly where the rays of light begin. Beyond the beams is the pitch black of a bleak and quiet winter sky. This affect creates an artificial ceiling above the lit surface, a low hanging limit, similar to the way low clouds can shrink the horizon and appear to put a roof on the world.