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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548517" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Church Street</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548517" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My friends quietly dropped out of high school.<br>It seemed each week we had parties for some guy<br>Going into jail or getting released. <br>It’s not that anyone thought this was cool, <br>Only good wishes that the time would fly, <br>And after twenty beers all his fears might cease.<br>Now that I look back, with no emotion, <br>We needed parties. We liked company.<br>We hardly needed a reason at all: <br>Never sweet-sixteen or graduation, <br>But funeral, fresh hitch in the army, <br>Baby soon for the sad girl in the hall.<br>We’d vent, catch any reason to not grieve, <br>Revel down days torn from the years we’d leave.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ernest+Hilbert">Ernest Hilbert</a></strong></div>

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