Well something tells me I'll keep dreaming
Of your apartment staircase
And that's because you've become all that
I can hold onto
And that's kind of hard to face
But this old wood creaks as I climb down it
And there's nothing left to say
As you wrap your mind around it
And then don't ask me to stay
Intrepid daydreams cloud my reasoned judgment
And that makes this harder
As I try to ground my expectations as the season chases you home
Two hundred miles farther
But this old wood cracks as the fall wind slams it
You're clutching at your heart
I say I'll call and you demand it
As I beg my car to start
Well, every mile home is another chance for you to give up on me
Of which I think we're both well-aware
Oh and as I try to atone, at least mentally, for all my deep insecurities
I take a breath of this humid air
And it calms me down