Peace, love, march against the “Man”,
now high-paying jobs and security.
Soul dust lines the ashtray.
Manicured fingers, hungry hearts,
Longing for more,
Afraid of more.
Youth stares at you,
despising the complacency,
of vanquished heroes,
Plastic crowns and hazy skies.
The war rages on,
Multiplied ten times over.
An old song plays,
You remember the days when,
your heart wantonly ran your life,
an oasis in the midst of crazy,
its persistent demands held at bay,
before you yielded.