We were modern hippies,
Doing drugs and making love,
Fighting the power,
And sleeping in sunflowers.
The lighters have to be put,
And the rebellion has to stop.
You can't win 'em all,
Hair has to be cut,
And bead jackets replaced,
Hiding our tattoos,
A regular rebel who lost their cause.
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Comments about this poem (1969 by Nicholas Peter )
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