Checking your pockets all the time
Feeling there was something you left behind 
You search though you know it’s futile 
You’ve packed your bags and all is fine
That seems to be the case 
Each time you leave a place 
With every goodbye, there’s a part of you left behind
But you still feel your pockets from time to time 
Though the last trip you took has been a while
You know it’s nothing tangible you miss
It was something you had that’s now entirely his.

01/1999