These Old Boots


Wild and restless in their youth, when the times they were a changing,
They were living for the moment, casting caution to the wind
And the flags that they were waving were for justice and for freedom
They were marching in the streets; something righteous was at hand
The bras and draft cards burning sent smoke signals to the leaders
They’d no longer blindly follow ancient rules that had been set
No longer listen to the lies forced upon them their whole lives
So maybe they could someday all look back with no regrets

Dancing With My Shadow


But, the mountains have grown steeper; the valleys have grown deeper
Silver grey has long replaced the flowers in their hair
I think I’ll put on these old boots and take a walk back to my roots
and see if anything familiar is still there

An Indian kid from Oklahoma had fled the reservation
He could play guitar real good and was determined to find fame
And a preacher from Nebraska lost his faith and his religion
So he moved to California, joined a cult, and changed his name
A pretty girl from Mississippi was abused as a child
She sold her body on the street, got into drugs and learned the cost
But, she gave her soul to Jesus when she found the lord in prison
It came as a big surprise, who even knew he’d been lost?
The preacher from the Heartland became leader of the cult
He liked the sense of power and he used it just for kicks
He cut his hair, started wearing a tie, and got elected to the senate
And moved the cult to Washington, now they worship politics
The hooker from the Delta made parole for good behavior
Some thought it was a miracle, most thought it was LSD
That caused her revelations while she was behind bars in county
She sells Jesus on the radio and sometimes on TV


The Kiowa from Oklahoma finally had his dreams come true
Tens of thousands came to hear him play as he toured coast to coast
He had a few gold records and even hung out with The Beatles
He was reaching for the stars when he died from an overdose
Here’s to those still standing, and to those of us who’ve passed
To count them in my memories I wouldn’t know where to begin
And I hope some have the spirit and the courage of their youth
To still fight the demons outside, and the ones that dwell within


Anything familiar, something I might remember, see if anything familiar is still there


           written by Michael Brewer
Mobile Unit Music/Michael Brewer Music/BMI
                Copyright 20





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