We sang songs of moose and fire and Kumbaya and watched the fire crackle and burn and drank apple cider and Mango Twist with too much noise and talked about drugs, sex, and alcohol, but still kept that wild trepidation of so long ago with the magic and awe of being outside and happy. Guy on the fire, where creation for the sake of destruction and meeting for the sake of music, brought back memories and laughter of when we were newer. Huddling close and whispering of sad realizations, but singing loud and holding on to that trembling, fearful rise of welcoming acceptance we cannot usher in quite yet. They said the embers looked like Phoenix feathers or dragon scales, but when things come of out fire that should stay dead, they set barns on fire. I've got my bucket ready, but right now, I'm using it as part of my robot costume.
Hear me crying
Hear me singing
Hear me laughing
Oh I need you
Come by Here
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