Quince

You could've been raised in Africa
Lacked in our vigor
Been an X on the calendar
Losing our cool in Antarctica
So I put my coat on ya
The breeze was light burgundy

A northern star over Istanbul
So I sing you my martyr's code
'Till you capture the sailboats
Subtracting the fees under carried time
Somewhere over the great divide
Clap like a canister

You could've been raised in Africa
Lacked in our vigor
Been an X on the calendar
Losing our cool in Antarctica
So I put my coat on ya