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Camp Isn’t Home

Noah Galvin
Popularity · Low
🇬🇧 English · Original

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Lyrics

A girl with an open Snapple A boy who's looking down The faces and the memories That we have from right now Raise a glass for everyone That will come through these halls But in the glass isn't alcohol It's something more profound And the halls aren't halls at all Of course they're trees And lakes and birds We all fly to find a place we can belong We all fly to find a place we can call home Camp isn't home, but is it, kind of? Kind of it is I think it kind of is Camp isn't home, but is it, kind of? Kind of it is I think it kind of is Where every kid picked last in gym Finally makes the team Where square pegs find their holes And outcasts find their dreams It's a melting pot for belting girls And boys in tiny shorts Come to find forever friendships Just four hours from New York We all fly to find a place we can belong We all fly to find a place we can call home A place we can call Joan Camp isn't home, but is it, kind of? Kind of it is I think it kind of is Camp isn't home, but is it, kind of? Kind of it is I think it kind of is Camp taught me that my words are powerful Without camp, I never would have known that I can hit a high F above middle C At camp, I learned that you Don't have to be pretty to be talented. It's just a bonus At camp, I learned to live in My truth as a heterosexual man Camp isn't home, but is it, kind of? Kind of it is I think it kind of is Camp isn't home, but is it, kind of? Kind of it is I think it kind of is