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Summer 69
Before the day turned into night
when morning dawn seemed clear and bright.
Before, the taste of spent cordite
lingered around one more bomb site.
We sang of love, no war, but peace
why should we fight Vietnamese;
it was just but summer’s caprice;
for we were watched; secret police.
We hate your God! We hate yours, too!
I hate you’re green. I hate you’re blue,
I said it first. Well, go f**k you!
We’ll send a gift, b52!
Before we took our hardline stance
did we ever give peace a chance?
Copyright ©
Terry Miller
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