CAMPING
(Mark Cohen)
Mist is dancing on the lake
Sun is rising, I'm awake
Feeling every muscle ache
Camping
City born and city bred
City noises in my head
Wrapped up in a nylon bed
Camping
Feel the silence of the trees
Taste the sweetness of the breeze
Wrap a bandage round my knees
Camping
I don't think I've ever seen the sky so full of stars
I don't think I've ever been this far away from cars
I don't think my feet can walk another thirty yards
On a trail aimed at the sky
Must be near a mile high
Wish my pack could learn to fly
Camping
Count the blisters, every sore
Count the bugs declaring war
Count on being back for more
Camping