I don't think there's a lot concealed beneath the surface of this song. What makes it moving is the way its description of a mundane scene evokes an atmosphere of loss, guilt and alienation recognizable by anyone who's ever reached the same point in a relationship as the song's narrator has.
The narrator stands in the entrance to a D.C. apartment complex where the woman he's visiting lives. Outside, it is raining, reflecting his mood. He might be visiting from across the country, or simply across town; either way, the object of his nostalgic pilgrimage is someone he used to be close to, but who has moved on in her life. As one would expect under the circumstances, the visit provides the occasion for the two to conduct a belated post-mortem examination of their relationship (though we only hear his side). He numbly receives her last demands, although we can only speculate what they are ("Please don't contact me again"?) The moment is awkward and tense for both people; her palms are sweaty, and he stares at the ground, perhaps wishing he could sink into it ("wondering what's buried underneath where I am"). The small details of the scene serve to underscore the sense of mutual alienation: he imagines that his "VISITOR" security badge cruelly announces to the world his status as a mere interloper in this woman's new life. Simultaneously, he's struck by how the woman's new surroundings don't suit his image of her (either he never really understood her, or else she's changed in ways he cannot fully comprehend). Something about all this provides an epiphany for the narrator: he begins to blame himself for driving this woman out of his life and into a new one where he has no real part to play. In a final reflection, the narrator senses that D.C. is a place full of similar stories: it's not only him but the District who will sleep alone tonight (indeed, there's more than a grain of truth to D.C.'s reputation as a city of lonely hearts).
A sad song. However, I like to think that there's a silver lining in the end: not only have the events culminated in a moment of (apparently) badly-needed self-understanding for the narrator, but also inspired in him a certain feeling of solidarity with the human condition, as he recognizes that he is just one of a multitude of forlorn and hurt souls. Thus, although he may not yet realize it, this experience has placed him on the road to becoming a better person than he was when he was simply the "one worth leaving".
I don't think there's a lot concealed beneath the surface of this song. What makes it moving is the way its description of a mundane scene evokes an atmosphere of loss, guilt and alienation recognizable by anyone who's ever reached the same point in a relationship as the song's narrator has.
The narrator stands in the entrance to a D.C. apartment complex where the woman he's visiting lives. Outside, it is raining, reflecting his mood. He might be visiting from across the country, or simply across town; either way, the object of his nostalgic pilgrimage is someone he used to be close to, but who has moved on in her life. As one would expect under the circumstances, the visit provides the occasion for the two to conduct a belated post-mortem examination of their relationship (though we only hear his side). He numbly receives her last demands, although we can only speculate what they are ("Please don't contact me again"?) The moment is awkward and tense for both people; her palms are sweaty, and he stares at the ground, perhaps wishing he could sink into it ("wondering what's buried underneath where I am"). The small details of the scene serve to underscore the sense of mutual alienation: he imagines that his "VISITOR" security badge cruelly announces to the world his status as a mere interloper in this woman's new life. Simultaneously, he's struck by how the woman's new surroundings don't suit his image of her (either he never really understood her, or else she's changed in ways he cannot fully comprehend). Something about all this provides an epiphany for the narrator: he begins to blame himself for driving this woman out of his life and into a new one where he has no real part to play. In a final reflection, the narrator senses that D.C. is a place full of similar stories: it's not only him but the District who will sleep alone tonight (indeed, there's more than a grain of truth to D.C.'s reputation as a city of lonely hearts).
A sad song. However, I like to think that there's a silver lining in the end: not only have the events culminated in a moment of (apparently) badly-needed self-understanding for the narrator, but also inspired in him a certain feeling of solidarity with the human condition, as he recognizes that he is just one of a multitude of forlorn and hurt souls. Thus, although he may not yet realize it, this experience has placed him on the road to becoming a better person than he was when he was simply the "one worth leaving".