Calling Home

I’m dragging my feet in the mud
Around the town I grew up from
Didn’t think I’d be here 20 years later
When just about everything has changed

And seasons come and go
But in this time things are meant to grow
My car broke down and nobody stopped
This isn’t what I pictured calling home

My favorite bodega changed its name
And the people here are friendly but their faces ain’t the same
And I’m still pining after boys who are cast aways
And I’m crying at the familiar chug of the midnight train

And people come and go
But we’re supposed to know
Things have their place, they just end up where they’re thrown But
This isn’t what I pictured calling home

And I used to believe
Like my existence had a deeper meaning
Some older guy told me
my eyes are pools of uncertainty
And if it is so obvious
Why do I take those words so personally
And by the way I haven’t had a job in months
I’ve lost the motivation; chalk it up to being young
Broke down on the highway
And there’s no one else I know
But I didn’t picture myself calling home

The other day I was talking to a friend
We’ve both been feeling lost like our sorrows have no end
All the slack, it’s a cycle of loose threads
Til they snap and we find ourselves having to start again

Ive got 3 years til my brain has settled in
3 short years to chase the bill and figure out my shit
I guess after all this, I’m not asking any questions; just this isn’t what I pictured calling home