Been looking around for a new place again.
This town’s changed a whole lot since you left,
you’d hardly know it now, wonder what you’d
think if you just showed up, wonder what everyone
would say if you just showed up again. The looks on
their faces, now that’d be good. We’d walk the neighborhood
down by the Springs where there’d still be some memories
left. The writing’s still going, but it’s been better. The turntable
still warbles at times. Figure I’ll find a place that’s got some
trees around, some green. Could’ve used a hand with the move,
still a single man, after all, still got that rambling way. You
managed out of that mess quicker than I’d imagined either
of us would, but the looking around hasn’t settled down
as much as I might like, and you know I never had the easy
charm that got you into all that trouble. I’m not much for
hanging on, but packing and unpacking, I guess it’s just
the way it is, still got some memories of the terrible time.
Wouldn’t say I have much use for those, but inevitably,
dust unsettles, end up talking to ghosts that don’t talk back.