John, we hardly knew ya…

We were looking for heroes
To pull us out of the darkness of untrust.
We glanced furtively at our politicians
But looked away in disgust.

The napalm was falling.
The apocalypse was nye.
Soldiers shipped back to Dover,
Dying for a lie.

We needed some heroes.
Or maybe some anti ones.
We found them on the radio.
The fortunate sons.

They talked about Lodi,
Being stuck there again.
About catching a train to New Orleans
And finding Mary proudly rolling in.

But the ones who caught the spirit,
Standing above the horde,
Were John, Paul, the drummer boy
And the one who saw the sweet Lord.

They dared to imagine a world
Filled with laughter and glee.
A peaceful and unassuming place,
A global culture begging to be free.

They told us about religion
And how to let it be.
They talked about their brothers
And working in the sea.

They thought they had an epiphany,
An awakening of the soul.
But, alas, it was only a cheap substitute,
Enveloped by an infinite hole.

Two died young and rich,
The others now toil alone.
The brotherhood was shattered,
Their potential not to be known.

But, I still look back with a smile,
With kaleidoscope eyes.
I remember Sergeant Pepper and Rocky
Life’s answers under a song writer’s guise.

To be continued…