Sorting through my things

See what I can find

Picking throught the past

See what's left behind

Multi-colored sweaters

That moths have eaten holes

A pair of beaded mocassins

With worn out soles



Oh, boots were made for walking

Winds were blowing change

Boy's fall in the jungle

As I came of age



Blace and white TV

With a broken 12-inch screen

Dylan's Highway 61

And Jackie's love machine



I reread your letters

And again I cry great tears

Light comes to the surface

Even after all these years