In Chicago - Amy Speace

Every mile is a broken bone

Between satellites and a place called home

Turn the wheel and point it north

I’ll be waiting on south side of 24th

In Chicago all alone

Won’t you come see me won’t you come

In Chicago barely hanging on

Won’t you come see me won’t you come

Had a heart attack all by myself

Sipping on memories from the bottom shelf

Telephone cord is tied in knots

Can’t hear your voice to connect the dots

What’s the point of bluebirds singing

You never sang that way for me

On the wire are they clinging

To the dreams they’ll never see

Every mile is a broken bone

Between satellites and a place called home

I won you back and I’ve lost before

I’ll be waiting for your knocking on my door