The Hippie said,
nice man, can I have a slice man.

It was the summer of love before I knew what love was and what pain it could bring,

where did all those flowers go
and who sang the song?

Under the Kaftan
we got the drift on
and
moving on
because that's a private thing.

Cool in the courtyards,
and on the boulevards
a thousand bards
sprouting
colourful
wonderful
words.