It brings me back.
And I know enough, now,
22 years later… That it’s OK.
That familiar, gleeful burn
That “let’s fucking get it going”
That “Oh it feels good to be back”
And swing the shoulders of my pomp.
When I am like this, it’s all I know,
It’s all I want to know,
I feel alive
My purpose, no longer dormant
(Even though it’s all a lie).
If it gets me off the mutha fucking couch
I’ll take it.