Summer of '99

We had also summers of our own
Riding the bus to the town
From our idyllic green
We had boxes of tin
And our very own guitarman
A microphone rusty stand
And songs in our lips...
We had summer of '99!

We boarded the first vacant bus
From the gate of our campus
Morning had been soft and temperate
We got comfortably sunk on window seats...
And watched the city waking up
Andrew nodded his head and winked just...
'its okay dude...we are going to win Casablanca...we must...'
He had such a positive vibe to spread
The street by the park was not till red...
Another one of us...had notes on papers...
Copies of our midsummer night's labour...
And when we had taken the stage...
Monitors placed like old sleepy sages...
The first strumming long pressed...
Jeans dusty had all the unrest...
And souls we were to burst...
We were surely having the hallucinogenic curse...
But we broke forth strong and wild...
We painted visions weak and mild...
And grew graded by the pedals tuned...
We shook legs for damsels with hairs colored and pruned...
O! We had such a summer of '99!
White columned Scottish gates...
We had overrun performance dates...
Took cabs and metro rides to the fringe
Of the city where yellow mixed with pink smooth cream...
We had also Adamic decadence...
We found rhymes in the most banal existence...
We had summer of '99!
We lost through pocket holes golden dimes...
And recovered haply to chase a note through Mirza Ghalib street...
At Reynold's we shopped copper and silver strings...
We had our own summer of '99!
O! We had summer with plectrums on fingers fine...