Typewriters, Polaroids, etc.

I wish it was 1962, you know.
I wouldn't be here. Neither would you, but we'd
listen to good music played by our heroes, 'cause
that which is best is distinguished in plain clothes.

We've lost the mystery, the one you can't see on
soft summer nights that divided the red sea, when
people were talking of lighting this darkness with
good that they found in themselves. Man what happened? So
let's take it back to the only time we've never had.

What's best and what's good is the question I'm asking.
Not contrasting feelings and groups multitasking.
Computers and choosing the ones and the zeroes that
make up our lives and our hopes and our fears. And

why can't you see when you turn out the lights and let
one million typewriter internet sites have
opinions themselves about industry standards and
Polaroid pictures of happiness answered.

You're feeling quite likely that things could be different.
You're stuck at the gate but you know it's the entrance to
tropical palm trees and a hundred white mountains. Your
feelings betray you; you never should tryst them, 'cause

I see the sky, I see the clouds, the grand canyon!
It's bigger than life, that's how I understand it, so
let's take it back to the only time we've never had.

Oh I get the feeling life's more than we can see
and feel and destroy and rebuild but we must ask
ourselves and see if we, the people. are willing
to do all we can to stop presidents killing for
oil and honor and power of trade, 'cause
not everyone needs the fantastic American way.