I long to be out yonder where the corn fields grow

To the places of my youth

Down in the valleys

Out in the streets and the cemetary

Pondering a past we never knew,

History is romantic in a way

Or I am just a sentimental fool

We sat on a fallen log over the rushing waters of the creek drinking wine

With friends, our friends, our crazy friends

Up all night discussing philosophy and figuring out what is wrong with world

When we were everything that was right

Happy just to bum a cigarette and pop a squat with an old timer

Drinking cheap Canadian whiskey

Chopping wood and poking at the fire

We had our fun alright

We knew how to live

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