We lived up here in Cambridge

And browsed in the hippest newsstands

The we started our own newspaper

Gave the truth about Uncle Sam

We loved to be so radical

But like a ragged love affair

Some became disenchanted

And some of us just got scared



Now are you playing possum

Keeping a low profile

Are you playing possum for a while



then you moved to the country

Bought a farm and tilled the land

Then you took your books to India

And got hooked on a holy man

But the wells they do run dry

And the speeches turn to words

And the woods are full of tigers

And freedom's for the birds



Now you run a bookstore

And you've taken on a wife

You wear patches on your elbows

And you live an easy life

But are you finally satisfied

Is it what you were lookin' for

Or does it sneak up on you

that there might be something more