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                For the last few weeks
        all I've been able to think about
is that it's only a matter of days
                before I'll be home
                        to a place I've never been
                but better off anyway
        not being in this place
                        or any of the other places I've been
                not being home since
                                August 15th
                                        1996
in the backseat of my dads car
        I saw New York City fade
and Jacob Dylan sang 
                about his six avenue heartache
and I've been hurting
                        for reasons that never made sense
                        like that song

        I'm getting back east
                        or
                east enough
        to where I won't have to adjust 
                        time zones or brainwaves
                                speech patterns or bus schedules
                just throw myself out into the world
                        where there's always an infinity of water
                        and other countries to stare at 
                                        too far away to see
                        but welcoming with thick diesel fumes
                                and functioning democracies
                derelict dreams on hard winter nights
        huddled in old cities cobble stones to stumble on
                        and catch each other
                                not out of kindness
                        but cause we know we're all falling
        somewhere without calloused hands to catch us

I don't know what I'm getting myself into
                        really
        but I know I won't be sorry
                to be able to say I belong some place
        even if that belonging means falling in line
                with the rest of the miserable sonsofbitches
        struggling to see another day and another drink
                                        and another chance
                        to feel whole and holy
                                and wholly wonderful 
                in a life that's hard
                        that makes you want to scream and yell
        and not care what color or creed you are
                        cause it's the fucking factory owners 
                that have everybody starving
                                I'm so sick of the segregation 
                        and the seclusion of breadbasket heartland 
                former slave states
                        they still got us all chained
                to fighting each-other 
        too distracted to trust 
                and fight back
I miss that
        east coast question
of Where You From?
        and everybody had a grandmother
from someplace else
                        and whether the answer was 
                Slovakia or The South
                        the answer was always
                                Ah, cool
                        Well, you're one of us now

        I just want to be a part of something
                        and I'm sorry
                        but it wasn't you
                central states
        flyover country
                I never wanted to land here
                        and I don't hate you
                but trying to belong
        always plateaued half baked
                        because my heart is a compass
                        that always points east

                So I'm saying goodbye
                                staring at the sky 
        got my fingers crossed
                                                on a shooting star
                        that just like me
                                                        just moved on

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