| I come from a land where the winters are long and cold
|
| Where the ice crawls over the lake and the strong winds blow
|
| Where old men are tough and tell tales of old
|
| A sore back for a hard day’s work used to feed their souls
|
| Chicago, I never knew I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| Chicago, I never knew how much I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| My father was a steel working man
|
| With an old-style in his hand he used to stomp across these lands
|
| We buried him here between Roosevelt and 110
|
| I still visit his grave every now and then
|
| Chicago, I never knew I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| Chicago, I never knew how much I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| I used to lay my head where kings and stones held ground
|
| The warring in these streets, it still makes an awful sound
|
| Innocence wouldn’t stray their rounds
|
| Bullets broke the windows as our bodies hit the ground
|
| Chicago, I never knew I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| Chicago, I never knew how much I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| It took a while to understand these facts
|
| That made me who I am and gave me insight to react
|
| Now I stand proud in being from this land
|
| And maybe you can learn from my experience firsthand
|
| Chicago, I never knew I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| Chicago, I never knew how much I’d miss you 'til I left and came back
|
| Chicago
|
| Chicago
|
| Chicago
|
| Chicago |