But when they say "All is lost," All is not lost...

Understanding is standing under, looking up, in my perception, to learn from others who can teach.

I find myself in a 24 hour restaurant. Another day, another dollar spent. Today was supposed to be “day off.” Day off of what? I’m alive, aren’t I? Day off of living? No one really has a day off. Day off of work? My bills don’t pay themselves, buddy. Until I can I live go a day without thinking only this much more in debt, would it be wise for me to stop working? Day off so I could work do laundry? Sorry, I have to do laundry on days I work because the clothes don’t get clean because I asked them to not get dirty. And I’m sorry if this bugs you, Rob, but I’m not lazy enough to spray Windex on my apron to clean it. I think that’s pathetic.

I think the life that so many of my co workers lead is pathetic. What’s the point of having a job when you go out and spend your money on drugs and whores? What’s your contribution to this evil we name and accept as society?

As much as I am saddened by its decline, I accept that society exists, and although I would like to remove myself from the horrors it creates, I accept that by my sheer existence. I am the guy who understands Procul Harum. I hate the BP executives and their greed. I perpetuate the problems. I, unwillingly and begrudgingly, support and strengthen society.

As much as I am saddened by its decline, I accept that society exists, and although I see myself run from it, I embrace it. I see that the only way to change a system is by being a part of it. I do what I can to make others lives better, and by extension, it makes my life better. I am the guy who enjoys listening to Ke$ha. My greed rivals the BP executives. However, I don’t want my actions to rape the earth. I, willingly and wholeheartedly, support and strengthen society.

I realize that those two previous points are contradictory, but they exemplify the eternal paradox of my life. 

I spend my life trying to understand. Understanding life. Understanding God. Understanding that I am not the person people think I am. Understanding why people think I am better than I am. Understanding why others ignore humility.

Where I work now, I have problems. I am ostracized for embracing intelligence. I am rejected for thinking. For some, it concerns because I am not normal. For others, it concerns because I am a threat to them. I can’t just do everything they ask, without question. For the rest, it annoys. If they proclaim no one leaves until all the work is done, and I ask later why someone left, when the other two were still working.

If Heaven is where everyone puts others first, then living is the hard part. Death should be celebrated. 

England, Pt. 1

I got to London, and the first exciting part was getting lost. The group bought tickets to the Queen’s Theatre, and were going to see Les Miserables. Even though I have never been to a Broadway-esque place, or seen a musical live, or even read the book, I decided to not go. I know, passing on a good free option. I got lost. I started out for the Royal Albert Hall. All I knew was that it was right across Hyde Park. I turned right and it was left. Or vice versa. I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. I called Dad, and he Google Earth’d the part of London I was in and got me to Hyde Park. HYDE PARK!

Live 8 was in Hyde Park. Pink Floyd reunited at Hyde Park. Richard Ashcroft came and played with Coldplay in Hyde Park. Paul Mc-Frickin-Cartney and U-frickin-2 played Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band in Hyde Park. And, most importantly, people reaffirmed what democracy was- citizens joining together and telling politicians to do what we want, not the assholes running corporations want.

I turned on Coldplay, U2, and the Beatles on my mp3 player and ran, skipped, jumped, and smiled the whole time through Hyde Park. I saw The Serpentine and the Round Pool. And then, the Chapel. The Royal Albert Hall. I cried. I hugged the building. I called my grandmother and told her I was there. (She didn’t care.) I went inside and bought the cheapest ticket with the best view and went to the café. I ordered the stuff I could afford- a piece of pie and a glass of wine. I had to be somewhat posh. It was, of course, not sold as “pie” and “wine.” It was in the menu as “Rich chocolate marquise with berry compote” and a glass of “Mouton Cadet Rose.” It was chocolate pie, with some orange up top, and berries on the side, with a very, very nice rose. And then I went to my seat, and met some really cool people. That part seemed to be a running theme for this whole trip. Julie took her two daughters, Emily and Charlotte, to see Ronan Keating. Apparently, Ronan was very popular with girls and gays in Britain. We talked about how “not posh” “the whole lot of us” were at the “poshest event in Laaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnddddddddaaaaaaaannnnnn.” We threw lint on the old ladies below us. House lights dimmed, and a beautiful string quartet started playing. I cried some more. The acoustics, God. Thankfully, he played some covers. And, in the encore, we started an air band in the Circle. Julie (the mother, mind you) was air synth and vocals. Emily was air drums, and Charlotte was air bass. Of course, I was guitar. Fun night.

The next thing worth writing about was Cambridge. And not even that much was cool. I walked around the Cambridge University Press Bookstore, only to find out that the books were actually printed in New York. Bummer. We were on this tour of Cambridge University, but I got really cold, and had to pee, so I stopped touring. I stayed at the Eagle, where we were going to come back to for dinner, and started drinking. I sat and talked to Tom, and some of his friends. We talked about accents, and that’s it. I mean, we were all joking around, and this was probably the closest I got to mentioning that we kicked their butt in ’76. I had a Philly cheese steak for dinner. (just kidding. But I can’t even remember what I had. Seriously, not that memorable.)

After we got back to London from Cambridge, we were free. I went to Euston Station to buy my train tickets for the next day. I stepped out for a smoke, because you can’t smoke in the Underground. I walked over to an out of the way corner, and smoked totally alone. On my way back in, I saw this guy walk to where I was, and pull a gold pack out of his pocket, and light up. I walked back over, and lit up again. I started talking to him about cigarettes, and he was smoking Benson and Hedges. Just talking to him, it was obvious this conversation was going to outlast a cigarette. I asked him if he had time to grab a pint before his train left. He had “loads of time,” so we went in to the bar there. I was still on a Guinness kick, and we sat and talked. Somehow, philosophy entered the conversation. He must have mentioned his undergrad major was philosophy, and that he read a lot of works. I must have said that I used to read philosophical works for free time, and he got this weird smile on his face, one that I recognized as one often found on me. He pulled out a book of Kant’s essays, and said it was his “light reading for the trip home.” I got the same smile on, and it was because I love Kant.

After he said he was going to Manchester, I did the most stupid American thing I did on the trip. I asked him if, since you’re from Manchester, did he like Oasis. He turned and pretended to punch me. Great guy. We still email. 

My Mecca

Ireland

So, the pilots for RyanAir need to figure out where the brakes are. Idiots. As if it’s not bad enough that the whole flight is a commercial. Well, that part had its moments. They had a card with the menu for the flight, “now featuring hot meals!” The cheeseburger was demonstrated hot with flames around it, but not consuming it. It was as though flying over the sea wasn’t enough to beat Moses. Screw shrubbery, RyanAir has demonic looking burgers to traverse water. And you can smoke on these flights, using electronic cigarettes. They had two flavors, “American,” and “Virginian.” Those in our group, American students from Virginia, appreciated what the marketing people had failed to notice. And I so would have bought a pack, but they were 6 Euros. I hadn’t converted my money from pounds, and even though it was an international (technically) flight, they only accepted Euros. As we start descending, we can see the Irish countryside. Ah, beautiful. I thought, Man, we should be going slower than this. I want to see more. As we landed, the plane and everyone in it, jolted, literally jolted, when the pilot slammed on the brakes as soon as the wheels touched down. I would have had another shot of inhaler, but the plane ride was less than an hour, and even then, I was supposed to wait for 3 more before I was supposed to have a dose.

I figured that when I take off, or during turbulence, or when we land, or pretty much I’m in a plane, me and my inhaler are like friends with benefits. It’s always in my mouth.

I can’t remember, but I was probably cursing a fair bit. And I was probably speaking with a Scottish accent. The others in the group were amazed with how long it didn’t take me to “sound like them.” Nice, American xenophobia strikes again. Like when they complained about “the bathrooms in this effing country being too small.”

After we landed, we were on another coach tour. I hate feeling like a tourist, even when that’s obviously what I was. We got to the hotel, and the rooms weren’t ready. Apology from the hotel. The group split into smaller groups and went out for lunch. I had a Beef and Guinness Pie. A beef pot pie with beer already in it. And none of this should I have the red or white wine with this dish…it tells what beer to drink! We get back to the hotel, and our rooms still weren’t ready. Apology from the hotel. I left, and walked around a bit. I found this genealogy place, and talked to the guy, Alex. He confirmed that I, in fact, did have Irish heritage. Everyone apparently wants to be Irish, according to Alex. I realized he has a point, if he keeps a shop open year round. But this was his peak season- week before Saint Patrick’s Day. Walked around a little bit more, and finally went back to the hotel. My room was finally ready, and a group of people were going to the Temple Bar area. I, incidentally, spent a lot of time in this district. As we were walking to it, I pointed out the genealogy place, and several people, from my own group, needed to go see if they were Irish. Point taken, Alex. Touché. It pissed off someone, who didn’t want to spend all day in one store, especially in one that sold you nothing you can’t find on the internet for free. Touché, person from the group. (My point was, precisely why I talked to him, not bought anything…) So we left them there and walked around Dublin.

I’m not sure if you can understand how close I was to hyperventilating the whole time I was there. This is where U2 is from! These are streets they walked, and still do, too. I found the Clarence Hotel. Ok, I didn’t have to look. I knew where it was. We went to the Clarence Hotel. I walked in, and I’m pretty sure I cried. I went to the Octagon Bar, and just sat. I had my picture made, and bought a T-Shirt. I really just wanted the invoice slip, for the phone number so next time I go, I can make a reservation easier. And then I would have a reason to hang out in this hotel. (Trip 1, if you’re counting...)

The person I was with had a reputation as unpleasant. I told her that I was happy to be walking around with her, because I didn’t know her all that well, and she was really a nice person. I told her, honestly, that I’m glad she saw me cry in the U2 hotel, as opposed to others from the group, and we eventually found a bar with live music. I had my first

Guinness. I have had it in America, but those don’t count. I count the first one in Ireland as my “first” one. That really was a great time, and like I said, I think it was great that I was able to share it with this one person. I could have no real expectation of the trip, and for Dublin, that was the hardest part. I was so excited about being there, and to spend it with the “mean one” showed me that it is what you make it. I put everything I heard aside, and had a damn fine time. I hope that the feelings are the same for her. Of course, I was known as the “stalker.” And after being in the hotel, I think she knows that I don’t just subscribe to the populous view of U2, there’s an actual reason I would go to another hotel bar for a drink than an actual pub.

We went to Trinity College and Dublin Institute of Technology the next day. After DIT, we could walk around the city, because dinner was on ODU that night. Joe and I went to find St Stephens Green. I was confused, because that coach tour threw off my sense of direction. But we did see a sign for Freebird Records, on Wicklow Street. So we walked around, and I added 2 albums to my vinyl collection. Good time there. We walked around some other parts of the city, and went to the General Post Office. Then he asked me, HE ASKED ME, to show him the U2 hotel. So I did. (Trip 2, if you’re counting…) That’s when I found out the art in the lobby was done by Guggi.

We walked around a bit more, and I eventually made it back to the hotel to put my records down. I found myself back at the Octagon bar, talking to the bartender. She said that U2 weren’t in Ireland. I gave her a skeptical look, and she said that if they are, the hotel knows, because they could drop by. I started talking to her, for a while, and wheedled some information out of her. Bono drinks either whiskey on the rocks, or pints of Guinness, Edge and Adam drink pints of Guinness, and Larry drinks Irish Breakfast Tea, in the back bar, but sometimes they are in the front bar. The first time I was there, I sat in the seat that Bono “usually” sits in, if they aren’t walking around. The back bar was closed, but, seeing as how if you try sometimes, you get what you need, I tried. I got served a Jameson on the rocks from the back bar. Great time spent there. (Trip number 3)

Dinner was cool. There was a band doing “Traditional Irish” (read: tourist) songs, and a spot of Riverdance in the middle. Appetizer was soup, which was wonderful, entrée was Bangers and Mash, and I wish I can find those dandy herbed sausages here…and desert was something really good, but I can’t remember. Carlsberg, Guinness, and I think another Jamesons was drinks. In the intermission, I went out for a smoke. I met two people from Canada, Brandon and Angie. I talked to them, and they seemed pretty cool.

I was eating dinner at the table from ODU. The band leader was involving people in the auidnece, and a group of 17 was great fun, with a 50 something year old at the head of the table, it was a prime target. Brandon Lynch, the band leader, asked if we were all his kids. Naturally, we said yeah. He just looked at the head faculty member for the trip and “You were awful randy, weren’t you?” At the course change, I ran out of beverage. I got up to grab something, and on my way back, I saw Brandon and Angie. They waved, and I sat down with them for a minute. They introduced me to their friend Magnus, from Sweden. As soon as I was leaving, Brandon Lynch said something about the Canadians and the Swede. Everyone in this packed show turns and looks at the 4 of us. All the ODU people were confused how I met them. Someone said, “…Jeremy? What are you doing?” I just waved, I said “Yeah, I’m on my way back. I needed more beer.” I promised to catch up with my new friends after the show.

After the show, some from ODU went to bed. Some went walking around the old parts. Most, including myself, were heading back to the Temple Bar area. Except, I was headed off with Brandon, Angie, and Magnus. We were standing at the door, and I offered for anyone from ODU to come with. “No…we’re going to” then their voices trailed off and they turned in to speak with each other. Whatever. We went down and walked into a pub, and there were 4 other patrons in it. There was a bartender, and a guy playing guitar. Brandon and I ordered pints of Heineken, and Angie and Magnus had Smirnoff Ices. The guy was playing Oasis, Don’t Look Back in Anger. And the 4 of us sang along, swinging our drinks, and having fun. The other patrons, who were older, seemed to enjoy having us, as it brightened up their night. Then Guitar Guy said, That’s my last song, See you! The 4 of us shared similar expressions, shock mixed with anger- No, it isn’t. Play something us to let us at least finish our beer. I think it was Brandon, but it could have been me who said, if you know another song, you’re going to play it.

Well, he played 500 Miles by the Proclaimers. And you know that catchy chorus, “Ba-lah-lah-hah!”? Well, the four of us had locked arms, and were singing it as loud as we could. It was really, really fun. Then the guy really did leave, and so did we. We found another bar, and another bar. It was kind of annoying, because each time we left a bar, we ran into more people from ODU. They stared at me like I was insane for being able to meet someone so quickly, and go out for the night with them.

Whatever.

At the last one we were in, Take A Chance On Me by ABBA came on the stereo. I love this ABBA song. Magnus, our resident Swede, however, hates ABBA. Too bad for him. I took full advantage of my lyrical knowledge and sang it loudly. And I think Brandon and Angie did, too. We called it a night after that.

The next day we left the country. RyanAir flight to London. Next time, we’ll meet Charlotte, Emily, and Julie Roberts. And, Joe, Stephen, Ludmilla, and the 2 girls I don’t know if I ever knew their names, all those people from The Eagle-. It will be the London/Cambridge part. Euston Station/Great Gaddesden will be a separate posting. 

In a world, where beer is cheaper than Pepsi, what do I choose?

Scotland

We went on a stupid bus tour of Edinburgh right after a Trans-Atlantic flight. And the guide had us eat breakfast in an outlet mall. That sucked, but it was a nice tour. I’m going to skip the schools part, because they're boring, and group crap. That’s not the fun stories. Right behind our hotel was Rose Street, which had 22 pubs. WHOO-HOO! I went to one of them for lunch after that crappy breakfast and had a "burger with mature English cheddar and bacon and chips" I thought, you know, a bacon cheeseburger, with some fries. I told the waitress, no lettuce, no tomato, and definitely no mayonnaise. She looked like I hit her in the face with a dead fish. This was the first time I had eaten there, so imagine my surprise when I had these realisations- mature English cheddar means aged white cheddar. I hate white cheddar cheese. Aged helped it none. It tasted like tangy provolone. And the bacon? Not, you know, bacon, but crappy Canadian bacon. Piece of pig on piece of cow, topped with tangy provolone. And the chips! I have always been told, "Fries are chips, and chips are crisps." Well, chips are not fries. Fries are thin slivers of potato, fried, and really greasy. Chips are like a potato that has been quartered, and fried. Good, and really hot, but HUGE! (Chips are crisps, by the way) 

We had dinner at this place called "Blue" good food, great food. (If I say we, means one of the few group things that didn't suck. This will probably refer to just meals...) At the airport, at 11a, leaving Norfolk, I saw a sign for a mojito. And I wanted one ever since. Two days later, in this fancy restaurant in Edinburgh, I finally get it. As soon as I sit down, the waiter comes over- drinks, anyone? Mojitos! Since this was a group dinner, the University paid for food. Drinks, save water/tea, are not included in the price. So we all had to pay for drinks. This meal, I had a different drink with each course- the perusing the menu/ordering course-the mojito. Then the appetizer, a wonderful salad, and my friend bought a bottle of wine, and I had a glass. Then, entree- I had a beer brewed in Edinburgh, since the 1700s. And a lovely braised pork shoulder. Oh, that was great. then desert, was...Crème Brule. And...Baileys with coffee. That was a good night. 

There's Edinburgh castle, and everyone wanted to go see it. It was 12pound to get in. 12! I was not about to pay that to go look at a bunch of empty rooms, so that night, at the gay bar we went to as a group, (OVD and Coke- best rum I've had lately) I told everyone that my plan for the next day, our free day. I was getting on a train, fairly early, and going to the other side of the country. I was looking at a map and picked Helensburgh. It was originally Balloch, but I decided for Helensburgh, as I had no idea what I was doing anyways. Most said have fun. A couple said, do you think you've seen all of what Edinburghhas to offer? And what are you going to tell people when they ask, "What did you do in Edinburgh?" you're going to say "...I slept in the hotel, and left." (They were mad because I insulted the castle) and one person looked at me with puppy eyes and said "Duuuuuuuuuuuuuudddddddddddeeeeeeeeeeeee, that sounds...like so much fun! You’ll really enjoy it...you're going to see some other parts of the country? Oh, my God. I wish I could do that." I reminded her, she was fully invited, because it's not like I had made super secret magic plans with everyone in helensburgh for a party she wasn't invited to. "Nooooooooooooooo, I couldn't." 

Ok.

The next morning, I went down to the train station, and bought my tickets. I left, and in Glasgow, I popped off to grab lunch. I based my stop on the recommendation of others in the car with me. After I got off the train, I found myself in King George's Square, and took lots pictures. I had lunch at the Counting House. I had chili and a pint of...something good. Not a cider, not a local brand. It was...not Carlsberg or Guinness, not...I can't remember. Then I got back on the train and met a woman and her two year old, who was just utterly precious. Talked to her (I can't remember her name, because it's written down and the list is at my parent’s house...) for a while. (It starts with an N.) She used to work for U2's first manager. Actually, the second, because it was after Adam "managed" but before Paul McGuiness. And we talked for a while, and at Dumbarton Central, I told her I thought about going to Balloch. (They called for Balloch at this stop) She said, OH, you should! You can see Loch Lomond, and the highlands, and it’s absolutely beautiful! As soon as I stood up, the doors closed. Well, don't think I can today...Ah, see it on the way back or the next time you come. Yeah, and we got to talking again. At the very next stop, Dumbarton East, they called for Balloch again. I said, Hey, I'm getting lucky! We both smiled etc, and I jumped off the train. I immediately realized she didn't know my name or anything, so I jumped back on, gave her my card, and jumped off as the doors were closing. She was fun to talk to from Glasgow to Dumbarton East. Then, the train to Balloch came, and I headed up there. In the town ofBalloch, I met a group of students from Texas, and one of them was from NC! Small world. I got away from them quickly, because there was talk of a "tour" Nope, I didn't want to be touristy. So I walked up a path, and ran into Elizabeth. Turns out, she is a retired professor (dude, she was old) from one of the schools that we saw for class. I just walked up to her on the path, Hi, my name's Jeremy. Hi.... Well, I don't mean to impose myself, but I'm walking down this path, and you're walking down this path, since we're both going down the same path, at the same time, you might like to know who you're walking beside. And I won her over. She was nice. We talked about Scottish pedagogy for, oh 5 minutes, or so, and parted ways. We got to Loch Lomond. I walked around, because I could see a little walkway, over there. (I would explain that sentence, but I don't think I can do it well so, just pretend.) I had to cross a footbridge, and as I did, I noticed a "wee stream" and stopped to take a picture. I had to lie down on the bridge to get the perspective I wanted. As I did, another older Scottish lady came over and must thought something about the stupid tourists who come up here because she just looked down at me and said "You're looking the wrong way. (I did turn my back to the loch to get the picture I wanted) That's just a wee stream, the great loch's that way (as she pointed)" I turned and looked at her- "Aye, but it's the wee streams that make up the great lochs." And I won her over. I'm Jeremy. I'm Maureen, and this is Sasha the dog. But she didn't say dog, she said "daug" It was fun. She said, you've got to come see my favorite part- and we walked to a little beach. she was pointing out the tallest hills, and explaining what the marina was (for the golf festival thing) and make sure you get a picture of the chalet, and look over here at this, and this back over here...tell your parents about this mount its the blah blah blah. She was going to go meet her sister, and i was there on the beach taking the bigger of the two pans I took that day. Man, every time I look at this scene I saw, I still melt on the inside. It was absolutely beautiful. Then I walked back over to the train station, and left Balloch. I headed out to Helensburgh.

I got there, and took the second pan. I walked out on a pier on the River Clyde, and took picture of this Charles Wysockie-esque street, with shops called Acorn Art, a Toyota Dealership, and the Clyde Bar, with the River in front and the highlands in the back. Still makes me smile when I think of this one picture. Then I pretty much walked all over town. I’m shortening, because I don’t want to type all night. Even though I’m not sure exactly what time it is...I got hungry enough to find food. There was an Italian place right by the train station, and I picked that for dinner.

I met an older couple, we shared dinner and two hours of great conversation, and then Jimmy said, in the thickest Scottish accent you can imagine, "Jeremy, I want you to know that I've thoroughly enjoyed talking to you for the past few hours," and I quickly said "As have I, Sir." "And I want to offer to pay for your dinner." me- "What huh?" I just sat there a minute, staring blankly at him. "I appreciate the gesture very much, but my grandfather would kick my butt if he thought I asked someone to pay for dinner." "Well, I was lying about the offer. I'm doing it." Then he screamed for the waiter- "Waiter! Waiter, come put his food on my bill. (To me- You've only had one glass of wine!) Bring him another glass of wine, too!" So, we sat and laughed and talked some more, and then I got back on the train. They were most gracious hosts for my time in Helensburgh. 

While I was walking around Helensburgh, no, I was basically hiking around this strange city; I was asking God for some company that night. It was an interesting paradox- I was with a group of people, but away from them; I was in a city, but knew no one. And although I met 20 people earlier that day, I didn't have the time to spend to really learn from them.  So I wanted to spend some time, and I was hoping that it would be over dinner, because that's a good way to spend a couple of hours.  I had eaten lunch that day in Glasgow by myself, so a meal with conversation would be a pleasant change. I was sort of starting to feel like the solitude was turning into loneliness. So I shared that with God, I would like to spend some time with other people tonight, and I had no idea what that would look like. I had no idea what a good restaurant was in Helensburgh, and when I walked into No. 28, I thought, "Maybe I should go..." After one look at the menu, my stomach said "WE'RE STAYING!" but my wallet said "...you sure? How much do you want to drink in SoHo?" and my brain said "there's one other person in here. What does that say about food quality?" and my legs said "man I'm tired. You want food somewhere else, you're going by yourself." 

Oh, and guess how much the train ticket was. 17 pounds. For 5pound more, I got to the other side of the country.

Then a RyanAir Flight to Dublin.  Next email, we'll meet Brandon, Angie, and Magnus. And we'll hear all about the adventures of Jeremy in Dublin. How much Guinness does he get? What records does he buy? AND DOES HE MEET BONO?? All this and more, on Jeremy + Alcohol + Dublin = Stalking Charges.

*giggles and runs away*

There is no greater power than love

It has the makings to become famous

Movies have been made about it

Songs have been sung

But that doesn’t matter

Because love itself rises above

It will overcome

True love always does

It never fails

There is no greater power than love

Whatever you do, love

When all else fails, love never will

Jesus was right to do what he did

Because love itself rises above

It will overcome

True love always does

It never fails

God loved us, so he gave us life

Jesus loves us, so we get to keep it

Recognize that you have been loved

Reach out and love someone

Let your love rise up

It will overcome the price of life

True love always will

It never fails

When we feel alone

We never are

Unless we don’t love

Then we have failed

Love rises up

Our spirits, our hopes, our dreams

True love always will

As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.

This has been on my mind...

Why is it in America, we drive on the right side of the road, but sit on the left side of the car?

The New Masters of the World

You who have endured much

Pain and sacrifice

Tell me, when are you going to

Live your life

How much longer will you hate this strife?

When will you realize this is home?

Why can’t you see that you’re not alone?

This new group of people is your family

And they love you like you love me.

You may think that you’re doing fine

All well and good, but you’ll see in time

That no matter how deep runs this lie

That others see, this

Isn’t the truth, just wait and see

I can see through to what you need

And it isn’t something Walmart sells

Half price

It’s a way to happiness, with no sacrifice

Go ahead now, and live your life