Summer of '69
I grasp left handed Where she last touched me lightly Hastily scribing The music flowing Over airwaves and downstairs To synch up real time This is my summer With just a chip and a chair For the anti-psy She can see me now Picking up that old six string And wearing my shirt The gifts discarded Truest without intention Spying from the stairs Unbound by my time Looking for a ball and chain The same as I do How now do we meet I would not decline a dream But how 'bout my place? Step out of the box See me through your eyes only Let me warm you up