For All The Lost Hippys Wherever They May Be Poem by Paul Amrod

You were once a hippy but you sold out to the norm
Couldn't keep the faith as Abbey was transformed
Hardly had a job so then the trap was set in style
Madison Avenue grabbed you and ol' Georgy cracked a smile
Glamour light and city nights trapped you with a hoax
Closing in with a fearful fright came the conservative Wall Street blokes.
The eighties came in rotting but we never said a word.
Afraid of reading the graffiti which asked; "Where's the buffalo herd"?
We have lost them on the nickel and Thomas cries unheard
Yes, America's so fickle like autumn's escaping birds.
They have got you in a pickle and you mumble! "It's absurd"
"What the hell does it matter" The punks will end the world.
Like our peace marches we missed the point at hand
The corruptness and the lies were all for Vietnam
Even Country Joe was explaining a sarcastic revolution
But his humor lost the war and Woodstock was an evolution.
The miserly sit alone dreaming of their nasty little jokes
and we read their intentions and so we always provoked
a confrontation in the subway during rush hour.
They laughed about our freedom and our pretty flowers
We wove our transcendentalism from Henry David Thoreau
like a flag in their faces that they would not understand.
Our deepest dedication to the Nature and the gentlefolks
to coexist with our surroundings and us all to empower
our inner strengths and gratitude as Rip Van Winkle awoke.
Fantasizing the universe as our balance and our abode
We count the stars in wonder and the pebbles in the sand.
Wishing for the union of mankind at liberty's command
Releasing helium balloons to further our nouveau
Saving our metaphysics in our secret portfolio
Kicking the business man's attaché case for our fatherland
Returning to Ralph Emerson by the Eiffel Tower
Went to visit Jim Morrison at Père Lachaise
Feeling his dilemma with every song we play.
Then the King of us, whom we all have known
gave his life for his philosophy in a tragic way.
The last straw on the camel's back spawned our lost dismay
and killed the final spirit of tied-died shirts which still are on demand.
Sitting in the garden with a cold beer and a joint to overpower
while singing the Kinks' "Shangri-La" with a sour and bitter tone.
The biggest revolution since the 4th of July 1776
has been left irresponsibly by a bunch of lost lunatics.
Upset a convention with Rubin and Hoffman and woke the sleeping land
However the PR was a shamble and Nixon pulled his trick.
I know some of us have held out and wherever you may be
Give the world a second chance and curse hypocrisy! !