Sorting through my things
See what I can find
Picking through the past
See what's left behind

Multi-colored sweaters
That moths have eaten holes
A paire of breaded mocassins with worn out soles

Boots were made for walking
Winds were blowing change
Boys fall in the jungle
As I Came of Age

Black and white TV
With a broken 12-inch screen
Dylan's Highway 61
And Jackie's love machine

I reread your letters and again
I cry great tears
Light comes to the surface
Even after all these years