sorting through my things
see what i can find
picking through the past
see what´s left behind

multi-colored sweaters
that moths have eaten holes
a paire of breaded mocassins with worn out soles

boots were made for walking
winds were blowing change
boys fall in the jungle
as i came of age

black and white tv
with a broken 12-inch screen
dylan´s highway 61
and jackie´s love machine

i reread your letters and again
i cry great tears
light comes to the surface
even after all these years