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Sencillo / Pista
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