People look back and remember their youth:
The war that was wrong and the love that was truth.
The highs that make normal life stranger and stranger
The pleasure, the travel, the fuzz and the danger.
Be-ins and Woodstock and flights to Tangier
Crash pads where one talked of God with a seer
Sucking up grass that would bugger the brain
Marches to Washington, exiles in Spain.
I had a lover who never grew old.
Her body could sprint for Olympian gold.
When she was with me we half broke the bed.
Where is she now, dead or near dead?
And where are we all who were young and had hope
That the world could be saved by great rock and good dope?
The same place that others discover in flight
When they split the party to walk in the night.
Let me go back to the coffee house nook
Where I was the bouncer, the pimp and the cook
When dudes ran the hunt, and chicks were for sleeping
Let’s see what’s nostalgia, what dust is worth keeping.
