Scott Boucher... who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side. Scott Boucher... headed for the Atlantic. Sometimes it makes me sad, though... Scotty being gone. I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.
