Come Home

I am still here. I never left. I never called you the names you called me. I never laughed at your fear as you did mine. I know you were fooled by waving flags and sacred symbols. Those things can be manipulated to make you think your friends are your enemies. By people who don’t care about you.

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This Wishing Well

Well I’m standing here in the big cornfield • Oh the reaper’s coming and I’m bound to yield • It’ll cut me down like a wind from hell • And all I want is just one more drink from this wishing well

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The Sweet Spot

The trick is to find the sweet spot and stay there for the evening. This is the place where I am pleasantly buzzed. Still coherent enough to carry on a conversation (albeit in a slightly slurred fashion), still on track to remember everything I did when I wake up in the morning, and yet blissfully free of the many things I’m usually worried about as I go about my day.

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