Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Or maybe it just clouds all of our memories and pain. And even though I've convinced myself, something holds me back every single year. Every time I sit down to write this is still the only thing that comes to my mind. I guess we're all obsessed with Southern stories. Punks and trains. Can't explain. I guess no one could ever explain. I've gotta get back home. We'll ride to New Orleans and try to forget everything we learned about growing up. I can't stand to let you down. I wouldn't get your hopes up if I didn't think that there was a chance. My warmer springs. Shadows of addiction. I stopped trying. Yeah, I've finally met someone. I've got no words but you can check my heart rate. I guess we're all obsessed with New York stories. Work and trains. How things change. You'd never believe how much things have changed. I've gotta get back home. We'll ride to New Orleans and try to forget everything we learned. Maybe we should just put this thing to rest? How much longer can I call this place home? My dad's still dead. My mom still hurts. But my friends are still golden. How much longer can I call this place home?