Only In America
. . . do drugstores make the sick walk all the way to the back of the store to get their prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front.
(A friend sent this via e-mail)
(A friend sent this via e-mail)
If This Is Not A Place. . .
If this is not a place where tears are understood, Then where shall I go to cry? And if this is not a place where my spirit can take wings, Then where shall I go to fly? I don't need another place for trying to impress you With just how good and virtuous I am. I don't need another place for always being on top of things; Everybody knows that it's a sham. I don't need another place for always wearing smiles, Even when it's not the way I feel. I don't need another place to mouth the same old platitudes; Everybody knows that it's not real. So if this is not a place where my questions can be asked, Then where shall I go to seek? And if this is not a place where my heart cry can be heard, Where, tell me where, shall I go to speak? So if this is not a place where tears are understood, Where shall I go, where shall I go to fly? -- Ken Medema
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