Camp Isn’t Home

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