Dear Coach’s Corner lyrics

Dear Ron MacLean, dear Coach's Corner
I'm writing in order
For someone to explain
To my niece the distinction
Between these mandatory pre-game group rites of submission

And the rallies at Nuremburg, specifically the function
The ritual serves in conjunction
With what everybody knows
Is, in the end, a kid's game
I'm just appealing to your sense of fair play

When I say she's puzzled by
This incessant pressure for her to not defy
Collective will and yellow-ribboned lapels
As the soldiers inexplicably rappel
Down from the arena rafters
Which, if not so insane, would be grounds for screaming laughter

Dear Ron MacLean
I wouldn't bother with these questions
If I didn't sense some spiritual connection
We may not be the same but it's not like we're from different planets
We both love this game so much we can hardly f*cking stand it

Alberta-born, prairie-raised
Ain't a sheet of ice north of Fargo I ain't played
From Penhold to the Gatineau
Every fond memory of childhood that I know
Is somehow connected to the culture of
This game, I just can't let it go
I guess it comes down to
What kind of world you want to live in
If diversity is disagreement, disagreement is treason
Well, don't be surprised if we find ourselves reaping

A strange and bitter fruit that sad old man beside you
Keeps feeding to young minds as virtue
It takes a village to raise a child, just a flag to raze the children
Until they're nothing more than ballast for fulfilling

A madman's dream of a paradise
Complexity, reduced to black and white

How do I protect her from this cult of death?