by Charles Carreon
Psychedelic ways are out of style
I'm a relic of former days,
Maudlin nostalgia-monger of
Flower children, hippies,
Alice in Wonderland--we're all out
of style with Peter Pan
Nobody ever visits Neverland.
You and I, we remember
When hearts were mild and faces
And the city haze was left behind
Looking for naked woodlands
and clean water.
So what if it never panned out;
if the dreams glimmered and faded?
We looked and dreamed
and held and knew our dreams
before we traded them for food and
This phase of life that's helter
Having learned to dream,
you never forget how
to seek a path with heart.