There is something different
Coming back that next year.
You expect all the fun,
Yet you wish that it’d never change.
There always new people,
New experiences and adventures.
But each year, there are less and less.
I can picture the tables I’d walk up to in the morning
The soft green grass, and the big twisting tree.
Each year I have come back to new people,
I have just hoped, that I’ll never lose this place in my heart.