The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die - Infinite Josh

It had to be 25 or so years ago in my uncle's yard on the back of a motorcycle. My mom took a photo she still has. I was wearing shorts, some t-shirt then. I could only guess why I'm seeing stars, but everyone says, “You can't go home again.” You can't go home again. Our dreams get drowned in a river of present needs. The years float by like fallen leaves. Our dreams get drowned in a river of present needs, hung like echoes in these frozen trees. I had my feet up. I was sitting still. I couldn't feel the air around. I'm leaving once more. I try to sleep, try to meditate that my mind gets stuck in the good memories, but everyone says, “You can't go home again.” You can't go home again. Our dreams get drowned in a river of present needs. The years float by fallen leaves. Our dreams get drowned in a river of present needs, hung like echoes in these frozen trees. The un-mopped tile of the pharmacy, the cost of pills, an un-mowed field behind the big box, rough asphalt, its parking lot on bare feet by the dumpsters speaking only Spanish. You can't go home again. Our dreams get drowned in a river of present needs. Our dreams get scary when we have to leave. Our dreams get drowned in a river of present needs. The needs reflect them back to me. The years fly by. The years fly by, but everyone says. Day two, September, Poconos. I swear the murals move at night at the gates of hell. At least it's life, at least for a while. It's a delicate dance. At least for a while, at least it's life. The objects we're locked in, immobile and violent. Just fewer like that, fewer afraid, fewer afraid.