Kingston, ON

Force a wave and dry my face
On the day you took the train to Kingston
I know it was Waterloo
But that don't sing quite as smooth as Kingston
I was young and I was dumb

I don't know what the hell I was expecting
Of me at seventeen
I think it was Carole King, it must've been tapestry
That hung above the corner of your bed
Insignificant but in my head
I tried to write them out

But there's too many things I miss about you
Subtlety has lost its touch
I don't laugh all that much without you
Yesterday I bit my tongue
Called her by the name your mother gave you
She looked at me curiously

I said, "It was a song I had been singing"
She said, "Yeah? Which one?"
And so I dug
I said it was Bruce Springsteen, something from The E Street
And began to hum, "Rosie, you're the one"
She said that's a lie but at least you tried

It's not hard to figure out
That there's so many things I miss about you
Mmm...
And if it were up to me, we'd be on Talbot street
Walking by the sunlight in your eyes
But it's just a dream; 1, 2, 3
I hide the light behind you
I know that I will find you again, again