sixties hippies: 2011

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

woodstock

woodstock ~ joni mitchell

to be there was to remember
so lay it down again
man can live as brothers
candles in the rain..

Monday, March 7, 2011

and it stoned me to my soul
stoned me just like jelly roll
and it stoned me
and it stoned me to my soul
stoned me just like goin' home
and it stoned me

itchycoo park

over bridge of sighs
to rest my eyes in shades of green
under dreaming spires,
to Itchycoo Park, that's where i've been

what did you do there? i got high
what did you feel there? well i cried
but why the tears there? i'll tell you why
it's all too beautiful, it's all too beautiful

i feel inclined to blow my mind
get hung up, feed the ducks with a bun
they all come out to groove about
be nice and have fun in the sun
i'll tell you what i'll do - what will you do?
i'd like to go there now with you
you can miss out school - won't that be cool?
why go to learn the words of fools?

lay down [candles in the rain]

we were so close, there was no room
we bled inside each other's wounds
we all had caught the same disease
and we all sang the songs of peace
lay down lay down, lay it all down
let your white birds smile
at the ones who stand and frown
lay down lay down, lay it all down
let your white birds smile
at the ones who stand and frown
so raise candles high 'cause if you don't
we could stay black against the night
oh raise them higher again
and if you do we could stay dry against the rain

lebanese blonde

too low to find my way
too high to wonder why
i've touched this place before
somewhere in another time
now i can hear the sun
the clouds drifting through the blinds
a half a million thoughts
are flowing through my mind

a satellite recalled your voice
sent me round the world again
all the night you've dreamt away
sent me round my heart again
one touch upon my lips
and all my thoughts are clear
i feel your smoky mist
up to the stratosphere

did you notify my way
to hide a wonder why
i've touched this place before,
so we're in another time
now i can hear the sound
the clouds drifting through the blinds
a half a million thoughts
are flowing through my mind

woodstock

i came upon a child of God
he was walking along the road
and i asked him "tell me where are you going?"
this he told me
said "i'm going down to Yasgur's farm,
gonna join in a rock and roll band
got to get back to the land
and get my soul free"

we are stardust, we're golden
we are two billion year old carbon
and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden

can i walk along beside you?
i have come here to lose the smog,
and i feel like i'm a part
of something turning round and round
and maybe it's the time of year
maybe it's the time of man
and i don't know who i am
but life is for learning ...

we are stardust, we're golden
we are two billion year old carbon
and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden

by the time we got to Woodstock
we were half a million strong
and everywhere was the song
and the celebration
and i dreamed i saw the bomber jet planes
firing shot into the sky
turning into butterflies
above our nation ...

we are stardust, we're golden
we are two billion year old carbon
and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden

into the mystic

we were born before the wind
also younger than the sun
ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic
hark, now hear the sailors cry
smell the sea and feel the sky
let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic

and when that fog horn blows i will be coming home
and when that fog horn blows i want to hear it
i dont have to fear it
i want to rock your gypsy soul
just like way back in the days of old
then magnificently we will float into the mystic
and when that fog horn blows you know i will be coming home
and when the fog horn whistle blows i got to hear it,
i dont have to fear it
i want to rock your gypsy soul
just like way back in the days of old
and together we will float into the mystic
come on girl...

the wind cries mary

after all the Jacks are in their boxes and the clowns have all gone to bed
you can hear happiness staggering on down the street
footprints dressed in red and the wind whispers Mary

a broom is drearily sweeping up the broken pieces of yesterdays life
somewhere a queen is weeping somewhere a king has no wife
and the wind it cries mary

the traffic lights they turn of blue tomorrow
and shine their emptiness down on my bed
the tiny island sails downstream cause the life that lived is dead
and the wind screams mary

will the wind ever remember the names it has blown in the past?
and with this crutch its old age and its wisdom
it whispers no, this will be the last
and the wind cries mary

sixties hippies

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

woodstock

Monday, March 7, 2011

myponga pop festival

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