 Sometimes a certain smell will take me back to when I was young. How come I'm never able to identify where it's coming from? I'd make a candle out of it if I ever found it. Try to sell it, never sell out of it. I probably only sell one. Give it to my brother, cause we'll have the same nose. Same clothes, homegrown. The stones grow from a creek we used to roam. But it would remind us of when nothing really mattered. Out of student loans and treehouse homes, we all would take the ladder.