Memory Of A Free Festival
The Children of the summer's endGathered in the dampened grassWe played Our songs and felt the London skyResting on our handsIt was God's landIt was ragged and naiveIt was Heaven
Touch, We touched the very soulOf holding each and every lifeWe claimed the very source of joy ran throughIt didn't, but it seemed that wayI kissed a lot of people that day
Oh, to capture just one drop of all the ecstasy that swept that afternoonTo paint that loveupon a white balloonAnd fly it fromthe topest top of all the topsThat man has pushed beyond his brainSatori must be somethingjust the same
We scanned the skies with rainbow eyes and saw machines of every shape and sizeWe talked with tall Venusians passing throughAnd Peter tried to climb aboard but the Captain shook his headAnd away they soaredClimbing throughthe ivory vibrant cloudSomeone passed some bliss among the crowdAnd We walked back to the road, unchained
"The Sun Machine is Coming Down, and We're Gonna Have a Party"