I guess there's nothing left   to do now, but leave.   But before I go, I'd like to have   one last word with you.   Tt's ten minutes to close   (you're too close),   but I'm not waiting by the door   to meet you tonight.   There's an eastward breeze   I should have caught   a long time ago.   It speaks of things that I still   consider home.   It seems it's also been there,   and been here, before.   I guess there's nothing left   to do now.