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Dedicated to Gabe Marxlyrics I. Agnostalgia They say you can never go home again But you're youngbravestupidsmart enough to ask whether Maybe you can, after all, go to your home-away-from-home again From the onset, manicpanic sets in You're yelling, laughing, sweating, running, Lifting up unfamiliar children to the sun You feel guilty, looking as you do unragged, unworn Clean, fresh and well-slept You bruise your face contorting it in a way you suddenly recognize seeing your who life On the faces of those who Returned The face conveys a wide gamut of emotion Relief wrapped in regret, covered with joy, tempered with unfamiliarity You don't know if you miss it or not Agnostalgia creeps in From your vantage point overlooking the valley You start to notice a paradox You can see the perimeter, can see with captioned labels the names of each component You know its underlying mechanics are simple and few and well-documented The roads are 1:72 scaleLetras de canciones The people are much tinier than when you lived there You now know it's nothing but a scale model Of Middle School Of Government Of Society at large Your vantage point insists that this place is so small And yet, here you are swimming in it Seeing it stretch out to the horizon with no end in sight Inside it, a multiverse of swirling storylines Infinitely interchangeable socio-pycho-sexual relationships In every conceivable combination You are nearly drowning in it and you go with the flow because it's just so easy And you are separate from it forever and also a part of it always You watch children at play And your perspectives spirals outward beyond your control And like a painting of a painting of a painter painting a landscape You realize that one of them Doesn't just remind you of you He is you And you remember that you started out as someone taller than you And you suppose he must have started out as someone taller than him And that it must stretch further back with each previous generation remaining forever taller In the minds of its descendents Which would necessarily dictate an uppermost echelon of progenitors of your youness Who would have to be as big as galaxies And yet, they are trapped inside this bubble in the same way a part of you will always be trapped there And you look at the outside And you know like the back of your heart what's inside and you think: How can this tiny bubble hold? II. Dislocation When you return from any trip, but most notably a longer stay, And you come back Home You get that feeling that everything was moved Just a little bit And things are the wrong color or the wrong relative size The air smells funny All the while, of course, everything feels exactly the same You have obviously always known this fact from the first time you strangely found Your toys exactly how you left them in media res But somehow ever so slightly askew Like they had all gotten up and moved around while you were gone And were just really good at remembering where you left them The thing is, the new thing is, the strange things is You always pegged the Ennui of the Return As a natural by-product of leaving a superior location to return to your creature comforts Sure you were happy to have YOUR stuff back (you love your stuff) It's just that things were bettersimplerfasterslower way back Before In Grassisgreenerville What's new what's strange is to discover This feeling of Dislocation accompanies any return No matter how much you need to get home It won't be the home in your head And getting back won't make it that place Because you can't go Home again III. Appreciation Buzz Take that buzz The Appreciation Buzz that comes to you unbidden While you open your heart's ears or point it's one piercing eye At something you just can't help but love unabashedly The Appreciation Buzz does not ignore flaws It celebrates them or simply lets them be Telling you with raised arm hair or bodily tingling That this thing before you is Good You take that buzz and you turn it on yourself And you think about the surprisingly unscientific storage capacity of small bubbles And you think about you And how maybe you hold galaxies too And how maybe we made God and the Stars made us And how you are special just like everyone else Because everyone else is made from the same stuff you are You start to wonder if maybe since we all, everything in creation, Come from the same thing, we could all in the end happily return to it But you can't go home again From Letras Mania