This one goes out to the brothers and sisters of those magic years of 2008-2011.

Back Home

(By Cher Guevara, and passed along to us by Andrew Richard Taylor)

I missed you out there, sisters and brothers

When I walked the old lands in my Colors from long ago;

My Colors from the last time we were all together,

When we were young, crazy, and putting on one memorable show,

Back when we thought our fuel tanks would never run low,

Burning bright through endless June and July days,

Seven days a week, burning that candle never slow

In the sacred lands of old Camp K.

Oh yes, even as I walked alone, I felt us all there, one another;

Though years have passed, our spirits will never leave, never go.

Our songs are still echoing, still there for us to rediscover,

Still carried on through Lake Malone's breezy flow.

Those spirits that are still carefree, spirits that old never grow,

Part of us that remains immortal, in living color, never gray,

Dancing and playing on Al's parade field, going to and fro

It's still held in the sacred lands of old Camp K.

Though I walked alone, it was still beautiful, there is no other

Home where we felt so carefree and happy, neither above nor below;

No place where life almost seems again a gorgeous summer,

Those long ago times before bills, heavy worries, and woes,

Back when our problems seemed to set under a sky indigo

And that's where they set, that's where they stayed

Left to melt under the warms rains and winter snows

Under the wings of the sacred lands of old Camp K.

Today, I could feel the campfire's mythical glow

Refreshing our spirits, though many of us live far away.

Oh sisters and brothers, heed the call of the woodland show,

It's still alive in the sacred lands of old Camp K.