lazy sunday afternoon
6 white boomers set up amps soundcheck soon they're
taking care of business steady and aglow

at the going down of the sun
we're already back in the 60's
with johnny b goode

a real nowhere man making eponymous plans
doesn't have a point of view
I don't care too

much for money. tin soldiers and nixon's coming
we gotta get outta this place
some of us were in Nam trying to win a war

others back here trying to end one
they were young they went with songs to the battle
we stayed home at Cooinda

but now Them /Us is We all together dancing into
our century’s second half
singing a life’s soundtrack

years fall away
thrilling to solemn drums
the beat goes on thirty years on

music in the midst of desolation
doing the arthritic hand jive
in another twenty?

under red green lights a few pale ales,
leave off your glasses and squint (as we who are left grow old)
you could be back there the sweat the bar smoke

lest we forget the shandon the princeton
every summer we enjoyed it
wind and rain and shine

for most of my life
I lived a delusion material gain
has caused me confusion

moleskins belts gut over hangs
freak flag long hair now turned
to snow and bald spots

don’t go gentle
here we go
rockin' all over the world

status quo?
the only changes that matter are chords
Something (maj) in the (maj 7) way she (7th) moves …

it's all about Mateship
I'll get by with a little help from my friends
and these remnants of Society,Travis Wellington, Fahrenheit 451 soaring like Pegasus

you really got me going
I'm just crazy 'bout the way we move
slower now but just as idiosyncratic

arms too short for newspaper s
still long enough to hold someone close
we’l l sleepwalk in the shadows

as ever the last slowdance
after the odd house red glasses in your top pocket
everyone’s in soft focus (light’s dying- rage rage!)

I'll be your baby tonight
c’mon baby don’t be
cold as ice

gerry tim bill marty greg graham pack up
without help no roadies no groupies
ungentle after a good night yesterday's gone

don't stop thinkin' about tomorrow
when’s the next gig?
age shall not weary them nor the years condemn

funny how all the lyrics come back…
staunch to the end
we will remember them.

Acknowledgements:
Boldface: quotes from “For the Fallen” by
Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)
Italics: lyrics from a life’s soundtrack