Every time I go home.

Where a younger me would dream and roam.

The place that taught me a little about life before traveling through the cobblestone streets of London and Rome.

I get a feeling, a feeling that I can always explain.

A feeling that doesn’t stray away from my brain.

It’s like I’m recharged each time. Reunions and the grand feeling of returning.

It lights me up and adds gasoline to a fire that’s been forever burning.

I understood for a very long time that I’m meant for what I dreamed about.

You ironically change when you visit the start of your route.

Fighting for that nostalgia, fighting for all those good times. I become stronger, and when a star gets stronger – it shines.

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