Moving to Champaign, Illinois from Idaho was traumatic. The mountains and rivers that I love so much in Idaho were very absent from the midwest. I knew that my stay was temporary, but was the PhD really worth it? I wrote this three days after I arrived.

Where do you want to go?

There ain’t no signs of hillsides
There ain’t no sign of trees
Just miles and miles of corn around
Mister, won’t you lend an ear please
I think that I’ve gone crazy
Certifiably insane
I’ve got two more years of doing time
Here in old Champaign

Now listen to my story
I’m a poor boy all alone
Got a case of the flatland fever
I’m a long long way from home
A prisoner in a situation
Where nobody knows my name
I’ve got two more years of doing time
Here in old Champaign

Some men, they drink water
Some drink the bubbling booze
Some go out on a Saturday night
Drinking wine from a woman’s shoe
Lord knows I ain’t thirsty
But I’ve got to ease the pain
I’ve got two more years of doing time
Here in old Champaign

Now don’t misunderstand me
or misconstrue my plight
I get by by staying high
I play the blues most every night
The way that it has affected me
is a low down crying shame
I’ve got two more years of doing time
Here in old Champaign