I once met a man
Traveling Pakistan.
His face was bright red
When he turned to me and said:
I’m an old psychedelic,
A super 60s relic.
I’ve seen Lennon and Hendrix,
Camped out with the Grateful Dead.
I’ve done shrooms
I’ve grown blooms,
Put LSD to use.
Seen another part of life,
Done away with sacrifice.
I have a confession,
But use discretion.
I’ve met Stevie Nicks
She’s actually a witch—
She granted me a wish!
I’m a dirty greasy hippie,
Patchouli-usin’ gypsy,
Always feelin’ tipsy.
I choose
No shoes.
Flower power—
No need to shower!
Wamma jamma—
Clothes from your grandma!
We live for today,
Don’t care what people say.
It’s okay if you’re gay,
We won’t push you away.
We’re here for the music,
Believe in the love—
No rules from the power above!
I’m a dirty greasy hippie,
Patchouli-usin’ gypsy,
Always feelin’ tipsy.
I choose
No shoes.
Flower power—
No need to shower!
Wamma jamma—
Clothes from your grandma!
You see today with Coachella,
I just met a fella,
Said he was a bum,
But he had a flat in LA.
All these vegans,
These health-nut newbies,
Say they’re all hippies,
But know nothin’ of,
The Summer of Love.
They’ve got remastered shit,
On their fancy tech products.
Don’t know the meanin’ or the soul,
They take a picture then say “let’s go.”
Oh,
I’m just a dirty greasy hippie,
Patchouli-usin’ gypsy,
Always feelin’ tipsy.
I choose
No shoes.
There’s flower power—
So no need to shower.
Well wamma jamma—
My clothes are from your grandma.
