I must be in the right place
The blue screen won't load The news is old The fire is hot The coffee is cold
I must be in the right place
The wind whistles through the trees The air wheezes as I breathe The dirt is dirty with blackest soot The trees have fallen exposing roots
I must be in the right place
I am in the write place With time to think And craft this space With smoke in my eyes there's time to blink
I must be in the right place
With many miles and tires worn My skin the sun seeks to absorb The camp is set, the children fed No fingers, smashed, no nothing bled
I must be in the right place