From Division St. the howl cracks windows and rumbles doors.
On Washington, gunfire and sleepless nights.
Michigan rages and raves but is in bed by nine.
The South captures the subtle ambiance of middle-class, do-
It-yourself America and cries for the riches the North showers every day from their
High-rises and sky scrapers penetrating those dreams that elude to happiness.
They sleep, those high-ups in their million dollar suits,
So do those yardbirds, bags weigh down their eyes.
I have seen this as I walk during the blazing summers
And bitter winters. The wind bites, and burns, and beats until the blood
Paints the new homes. The city will teach you to help those that will help you.
Got to know people. The weather fluctuates like my bank account, but always going below zero eventually. I’ve been at the bottom, and baby, it feels great.
Chicago, don’t change. Stay the same. Always re-ignite when the flames devour your soul and don’t settle for the second city status that taints you.
I will miss you Chicago. More than ever. The people clamor at each other’s hands to clap and smile so that a goodbye is never alone.
I will never be alone. And it is thanks to you Chicago. Thank you.
