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