A tattooed woman and the hog-eyed man

watched the parade of lost souls

strolling the boulevard

beyond the darkness

when three apocalyptic horsemen

on chrome chariots where home-

less held signs asking

for peace and redemption

from bad music and inane poetry

that permeated the polluted air

somewhere north of San Francisco

where tired old hippies

smoked hash from a forgotten age

when we all dressed in flowers and sage

and lived free of controlling kings

and sad lovers in gilt towers

south of Babylon