The sun offered a needed interlude
for an angry young man
stepping out into the new summer air
trying to squeeze a drop of meaning
from the establishment of war,
from the cosmic twists of the rising moon,
and a beautiful child was born
in the psychedelic seeds germinating
in the stalls of unstable stables, and we
knew we would no longer need saddles....
our nights would wear white satin,
the red doors would be painted black,
we'd sail in yellow submarines along
the green river with brown-eyed girls,
we'd dance with the devil with the blue dress on.
We were the new riders, galloping
through the purple sage, searching
for a heart of gold, in the sunshine of our love.
Riding Bareback
Riding Bareback
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
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