I spent, all last summer trying
to figure out where i was headed next,
what i could still call mine.
And on the last day of july he stepped off the porch for the last time,
he wouldnt look at me instead, he just sort of shrugged and waved goodbye.
On august first i packed the last box, shoved it in and slammed the door.
I took up north on 57 the way i did before
And it keeps getting clearer
a gentle reminder, nothings changed.
The miles dont really matter,
because theres no place far enough away.
Full broad of familiar reputation,
after being so assured
I could escape it
And so my first Chicago winter proved not much diffrent from the rest.
Now i mark each new morning by who's bed i climbed out of last.
For every night spent at the bar when I told myself I did'nt mind.
And now i know the wind is in, the cold is staying in the city this time
And it keeps getting clearer,
a gentle reminder, nothings changed.
The miles dont really matter,
because theres no place far enough away
It occured to me last night,
while I was waiting for the train,
it's been since the 6th of last October
that I've kept my arms clean.
But if thought this was starting over
I should've known I'd be the same.
I should remember this is all i am
this is all ill ever be.