Cleveland
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It’s in the “thank you’s.”
The “you’re welcome’s” and the “hello’s” and the “I miss you’s.”
And telling them that “I miss you too.”
Goodbyes aren’t always sappy
So if you catch me waving while I walk away
I'm proud of my team dressed in brown and orange;
The city, no, the state that I call my home;
The perpetual losing, the continuous booing, all is so close to my heart;
While others may laugh at this team on my back;
When you pass down the streets in Chicago, Cleveland, and Atlantic City, you see it in their eyes.
They’re not yet sixteen, acting eighteen,
Driving their moms up a wall when they don’t come home for supper.
Cleveland.
My Cleveland, no ‘burbs.
The city on the Crooked River, plagued by
construction and
impending
failure.
Schools with no teachers,
teams with no leaders.
Home of the Great Almost
