last night i dreamed that i was 17 again like old home movies in my mind at 17 the truth seems clear and you feel wise and you criticize
last night i dreamed of when i found out that the world is run by cynical old men but she and i were young, and love was on our side seemed do simple then
and even now though years roll past i realize i still demand ideas ring ture to me
even now i see at last inside the man still lives the boy i know i used to be
and i remember bright white paint on old brick walls a desk a bed some books our dreams how sunlight poured in floods across the bedroom floor and your silver shoes and your crumpled jeans
you sitting typing with your hair held up in pins while i loved singing to a crowd we made it plain that we would not be taken in raking secrets out we dared to speak aloud
foolish rules for breaking seize the day we'd save the world her book to write my songs to play our brave new world but far too much at stake for me to notice that the girl grew away drew away
today she sees the world beyond her ivoy tower on TV speaks of high ideals and joins debates upon the exercise of power .. but manipulates wheels within the wheels
even now i close my eyes and see her smile and here her voice speak soft and clear to me
even now -yet deep inside i feel that she remembers still the way we used to be last night i dreamed that i was 17again