My home videos won't mean a thing in fifty years
That day will come and all i've done will be rendered forgotten
Old vhs tapes — the broken arm and the baby — my first bike ride when my dad told me he wouldn't let go of the seat
Vhs videos — "here he is, the man of my dreams" — now those tapes that meant everything to me aren't even fit for a yard sale
It hurts
When friends are hurting
My friends are hurting
Look below the surface — do you see the spawning salmon, unaware or well aware of their living and dying?
Feel the money magic — the forest like a couch — can you forget those days of vast daring, lone poplar, and five dollar bills?
