Midsummer afternoon, 1970.

I hadn't been born then.
Nor was this baffling standpoint I have now towards life.
Flooded with beercans like an endless river,
Chuckling in air, like sniffing a fucking reefer.
To see things as though they were really what we saw at that time.

Oh, what a mint view.
This feeling of cherry blossoming daisies and evergreen meadows outside my window.
I wish it hadn't been so fast, made it seems like I've just missed a train knowing I am 30 years too late.
I guess we just have to revel those moments forever in our senses.
At least until the fat lady stops singing and starts to get high and wasted.

Ah.. If I could just get out and go make love to the gazing sky,
And tell her not to cry, for she has to witness all.
This surreal nonsense that is happening beneath her beauty..

Ah.. If only tonight I could gently rape the worried moon and make her moan.
Blow the tits off her sanity, only just so I can whisper her lovewords to make her calm.
So she would still talk to me at night, as she begins to turn her shine around against me,
Against the ground I'm living on..

Oh dear Mother of all the land,
Let me hold your hand and raise your head up slow since now is the time.
Now is when children create memories of their first sunrise,
Now is when Mother first sees her children's eyes.
Now is when the old are young while the young are still dumb as we are closer to lose our opposable thumbs.
Now is when I wake up to the fresh smell of brewed coffee in blonde rays of beautiful lights that burst through the haze where they land upon my face like a kiss.

So I say here and now, a solemn vow.
The land's gone cold, down gone by the down down shops in and out of a bound.
Half-truth lies I have told, an honest sound of a tiny cluster of little babies on a playground.
I suppose my mind's just riddling with chaos of whys and hows,

But I like it.