Yellowstone, 1971
We sat there just groovin', our senses so keen
Trippin' and giggling, taking in nature’s scene
We smirked as visitors drove up in blind haste
"Take a picture! Let's go! No time left to waste!"
We were smug, silly hippies, naive to the core
So certain we had found the key to that door
Those tourists were clueless, yet then so were we
My highway to wisdom does not come toll-free
I'll never fly to heaven on Cannabis weeds
Through brambles and thorns my gutted path leads
If I find Eden, I must first weed and plow
Wish I could go back to Yellowstone now
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013
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