"We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun"
Yeah right. You can put all the flowers you want into the barrel of a cop's gun, but when the bullet flies out it will pierce our hippie skulls just the same. If my generation has taught me one thing, it's that one should never trust his own instincts nor his own means to an idealist end.
Playing ukuleles out in the park, singing, dancing, talking of love and peace-- where are we now? In the same place, singing the same songs, while; this time, the cannon is pointed at the backs of our heads.
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