Some yell out that the Sixties never die, then it eternally moans
The hippie who didn’t take baths works at the savings and loan
The women with careers still aren’t paid enough to stand on their own
The problems simply took new forms, not saved by Rolling Stone
So who was right in those strange times of my parents’ age
Baby Boomers proclaimed Civil Rights and Vietnam eras as our sage
Looking at where they’re standing reveals the current “sell out” rage
Their ideals half washed up on impotent shores of the media stage
People now run around the ghettos with drugs in their hand
How’s that different than a generation saying, “Let’s get high man”
There’s so much confusion on when to call off saving this land
But the investing class keeps pushing ideas of supply and demand
Hope is not dashed, I dare say, nor could it be inside
America, the undaunted optimist of vain and ignorant pride
We’re always right in our country, but so much wrong we hide
Hypocrisy is inbred all over, integrity has nowhere to confide
Something forgotten in the Sixties
Something forgotten in the Sixties
Copyright ©2002 Andrew Jack Rhodes
Andy Rhodes Poetry 