Why the feeling of nostalgia
when sitting in an airport on your own for the
how many times is it now?
well this is the last at least
for awhile

What can I miss when I chose
on my own
to leave this place behind, is it regret?
or the natural progression of emotion in events you can't control
but I'm in control, I am, I'm in
this motion half between happy and apathetic and
**** why'd you have to make me miss it here
and I haven't even left

Nostalgic for nothing
for what I chose to forego for myself
for the people, though few, I'll miss and mourn
for the culture for the music for the body
that no one else will quite understand

How many 'you had to be there's
how many 'I guess it's only a thing there's
how many times will I look at art
look at rocky, horror
look at a cynic and think
'**** what have I done'

It's an in-between kind of emotion
that will pass I have no doubt
pass and leave room for a chance I'd never get to take
but **** the in-between
**** the waiting