Where have the real hippies gone?

bed-peace

Peace, love, march against the man,
now high-paying jobs and security.
Soul dust lines the ashtray.
Manicured fingers, hungry hearts,
longing for more,
afraid of more.
Youth stares at you,
despising the complacency,
of vanquished heroes,
plastic crowns,
hazy skies and locked doors.
Winter has stayed far too long.

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