Your sister said she’s looking out for you; keeps an eye on what you do and how you’ve been. And your brother wants to share in all the fame; wants to smoke it all away, wants to give a little back again. Your teachers always saw the promised son and what the future could become when you grew old. But you’re still hanging around in your hometown bar. You’re sick of where you are, but you try to find the brighter side. But you can’t let it out, afraid of what you’re going to do. Afraid of where it’s leading you. Afraid of what they’re going to say about you. You feel like you’re straining on a leash and your arm’s too short to reach the holy cup. One more winter here will lead to twenty more, each one colder than before. You struggle just to stay behind.