A Saint's Complaint

I never lived anywhere I didn't mind leaving

I never knew anyplace I didn't want to go

Short on the give, long on receiving

I never knew anything I didn't want to know

I liked the towns, I liked the people

But the brown bugs in my bed

I could've done without

I liked the taconite, the slate roofs and steeples

A few crucial details of my whereabouts

Chorus:

I don't think you should hesitate

Nothing comes to those who wait

Once I heard a saint's complaint

He said, good things come to those who ain't

So I moved west

To where your weather comes from

Or where your weather goes when it's done with you

I've got a place here

I've got a family

More to love, more to feel, more to do

And more to lose

So I've got a taste of what I've been missing

There's hardly anywhere I really want to go

There's more to give, more room to breath in

I hardly see anyone that I don't want to know

Chorus

I don't think you should hesitate

Nothing comes to those who wait

Once I heard a saint's complaint

He said, good things come to those who ain't