It seems a long time since I lived down the long road and through the woods in the house where I grew up. And every morning I woke up to the sunrise over the Illinois River. Then I turned sixteen and found out the sun rises nearly as beautiful riding the early morning train as the glow lights up Lake Michigan. I discovered what it meant to play guitar and sing and write, and perhaps played and sang too often and too loud for my aunt and uncle who I lived with at the time.
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