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.