Midwest - Chris Pureka

If I call you sometime,

from the Midwest,

will you keep my pulse between your thumb and your forefinger,

under your pillow while you’re sleeping?

I miss you…

Cause things fall apart,

and it’s not a surprise,

we all look around for some great escape.

We wake in the morning,

we sing in the evening,

we’re looking around for the reasons why…

So you just have to ask it,

Doesn’t this mean something,

doesn’t it call to you?

Is this a field, or is this a tunnel?

Am I getting across, am I getting across to you?

Oh, this is the best we can,

and oh, we’re hanging on.

A grain of salt for everything we thought we’d understand.

And so we hold steady,

and we keep our ears to the ground,

and we hope we know,

what we’re listening for,

what we’re listening for…

So we’ll give this, another chance,

yeah someday, someday I’ll call,

call and say I saw a bluebird,

I crossed a mountain,

I believe in this,

and now, and now.

I believe in this, and now…

Oh this is the best we can and oh we’re hanging on.

And we hope we know,

what we’re listening for,

what we’re listening for,

what we’re listening…

If I call you sometime from the Midwest,

will you keep my pulse between your thumb and your forefinger,

under your pillow when you’re sleeping?

I miss you.