last night i dreamed that i was 17 again
like old home movies in my mind
at 17 the truth seems clear and you feel wise
and you criticize
last night i dreamed of when i found out that the world
is run by cynical old men
but she and i were young, and love was on our side
seemed do simple then
and even now
though years roll past
i realize i still demand
ideas ring ture to me
even now i see at last
inside the man
still lives the boy i know i used to be
and i remember bright white paint on old brick walls
a desk a bed some books our dreams
how sunlight poured in floods across the bedroom floor
and your silver shoes
and your crumpled jeans
you sitting typing with your hair held up in pins
while i loved singing to a crowd
we made it plain that we would not be taken in
raking secrets out
we dared to speak aloud
foolish rules for breaking
seize the day we'd save the world
her book to write
my songs to play our brave new world
but far too much at stake for me to notice that the girl
grew away
drew away
today she sees the world beyond her ivoy tower
on TV speaks of high ideals
and joins debates upon the exercise of power
.. but manipulates
wheels within the wheels
even now
i close my eyes
and see her smile
and here her voice
speak soft and clear to me
even now
-yet deep inside
i feel that she
remembers still the way we used to be
last night i dreamed that i was 17again
