Phone Call From Chicago - Peter Himmelman
I'd said I'd call well here I am
two years late but oh my friend
I have grown since you knew me
there's a new blood runnin' through me
I'm in Chicago now it's 5 P.M.
There's a wind coming off Lake Michigan
It has no restrictions
it has so much conviction
I felt that way when I was nine or ten
ain't felt the same a time again
And the wind's blowin' stronger
like it just can't wait no longer
Like it has to make its way back home again
My room is old it smells of rain
tap tap tappin' on my windowpane
And though I'm warm and rested
I feel like I'm being tested
There's a freight train static 'bout a mile away
clanking iron on a winter's day
Like a demon flyin'
you can hear its wheels cryin'
Like it has to make its way back home again
Faded couches and a tv set
motel bathroom soaking wet
I wipe the steam from the mirror
but my face it don't get no clearer
And the Coke machine down the hall
sounds like thunder as the cans would fall
Like a thuder resoundin'
you can hear my heart a poundin'
Like it has to make its way back home again
Like it has to make its way back home again