Rusted keyhole visions
(watch us running through the
1970's)

The cars we smashed as big
as boats
And the drinks flowed
and our bikes were kick-start only

the skirts were short
and we were laughing at the
fates/gods

Death left us alone
(and Morning came up on
the shoreline for us and
Moon crept silently over
wooded hills for us)

And Music followed
everywhere we went
plucking enchanted fables from
the ethers

We must be alive now
in the sense we were then
reckless believers