Goodbye Carolina,
I felt cold and I felt weak.
Took a midnight bus from Asheville,
Pa**ed like a ghost through Tennessee.
Brushed the northern edge of Blacksburg
Like the hair off of your cheeks.
I wish I could fall asleep, half-dead in the window seat;
awake for weeks.
Good morning Manhattan,
Stopped at Port Authority
I'll take a train under the river;
Ride the A out to the G.
And I'll walk along your narrow streets
With a dollar cup of coffee
Letting it stain my teeth, two sugars, a drop of cream; bittersweet.
God damn, I missed you Brooklyn
Caught my breath here on your streets
I left my winter coat in Charlotte
And I'm cursing at the breeze
I'm hiding out from early March
Read the sign hung in our lobby
Elevator broke last week; I walk the stairs to 403.
I don't blame you for changing the locks.
I think I'd probably do the same if it were me.
I'm gathering up the courage to knock,
Not sure what I'm looking for.
I don't know what I want.
I don't want anything
I guess I don't want anything.
Some college student answers
And my heart crash-lands on the floor.
He says he sublet this place last month,
He never heard of me before.
He sees me there collapsing
And he opens up the door
It's all new furniture; I barely recognize it anymore.
He says, "I'm sorry, man. I wish that I knew more.
I'm not sure exactly what you're looking for.
But no Dianne, no, she don't live here anymore.
Dianne don't live here anymore."