Ho-o-o-ome

Pulled out the guitar halfway to New Orleans.

I'm sitting here at chez Blasius and I'm sitting here talking to my grandparents. My little black lab is laying across my feet. I look out of the window and the green leaves seem to weep with tears of rain drops dribbling down and falling to the ground. I sit here, as I hear my grandparents talk and I can't think of anything else that I'd rather be doing.