We were always on our own-
we were seeing things breaking down for once, crossing fingers until it comes full circle.
The shimmer of light or the blinding sun-
now watch as we talk about how we acted,
we were living in the streets then.
Crossing the white and yellow lines,
if only our hearts were as big as our imaginations, pulling bullets from our pockets.
I was there when it all fell down,
this play is the justification of what we hated, now we can see our deaths or the opera.
It's 68 it's 68- the year false hope died.
You can see the fear-
it's the shadows on the wall...
