Loud drums and idols, an old garage.
Now she’s strumming evergreens,
while she’s living out her dreams.

Swimming with her sister through letters.
Serving, renting, self, she’s been.
Now she’s living what she means.

Something about Chicago.
It’s always followed me.
Four women from Chicago,
My whole history.
Three airports and a desert.
Show up and then they leave.

Islands, laughing, crying tiny towns.
Now she’s happy, creating.
Building other people’s dreams.

Fell down and found me, an old garage.
Leaving. Apple. Being free.
Of happiness, she spoke to me.

Found happiness, they spoke to me.
There’s something about Chicago.
Show up and then I leave.

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