In my Evanston, everyone watches everything.
A town next to a city, drowned out by the lights next to us.
We know the ones in the neighborhood by name.
We know ourselves just as well.
Even in a town like ours, I am just a speck.
I know how to sit still
because I love watching the strangers pass by.
Even if I don’t know them by name, I know their souls by heart. x3
That one is happy.
That one is looking for something.
This one found it.
The question raises to mind; Who am I?
To which I laugh and respond; Part of Evanston.
Lights at night blind me
but I can still see everything.
He walks by with his dog,
and he smiles.
Maybe at me, maybe at the stars, maybe.
Some say it’s not safe to watch out of the window at night,
because you might see something you’re not supposed to.
In my opinion, that’s the point. I can see everything.
The quieter it is, the more I hear.
I can hear the music through the silent hurricane of sound.
The music talks to me.
It tells me what else is outside of my little bubble.
Silence inside my bubble, music inside my Evanston.
I get to hear both.
Sometimes, it rains.
Some will tell me it’s gray, but I think it’s blue.
Blue means the sky, which means everything, which means no limit.
I have no limit.
So I walk and watch
through my very own Evanston.
A town next to a city, drowned out by the lights next to us.
We know the ones in the neighborhood by name.
We know ourselves just as well.
Even in a town like ours, I am just a speck.
I know how to sit still
because I love watching the strangers pass by.
Even if I don’t know them by name, I know their souls by heart. x3
That one is happy.
That one is looking for something.
This one found it.
The question raises to mind; Who am I?
To which I laugh and respond; Part of Evanston.
Lights at night blind me
but I can still see everything.
He walks by with his dog,
and he smiles.
Maybe at me, maybe at the stars, maybe.
Some say it’s not safe to watch out of the window at night,
because you might see something you’re not supposed to.
In my opinion, that’s the point. I can see everything.
The quieter it is, the more I hear.
I can hear the music through the silent hurricane of sound.
The music talks to me.
It tells me what else is outside of my little bubble.
Silence inside my bubble, music inside my Evanston.
I get to hear both.
Sometimes, it rains.
Some will tell me it’s gray, but I think it’s blue.
Blue means the sky, which means everything, which means no limit.
I have no limit.
So I walk and watch
through my very own Evanston.