Deep chitter chatter, deep the rage
We’ve all grown old, turn the page
The bookstore how it brings it out
As conversation where we doubt
What we had learned in younger years
But this ain’t time to cry tears
And so goes on this search for truth
How they lied when we were youth
And so each day as we arrive
The bookstore helps us come alive
We throw our minds to interchange
As each old man does seek his range
To not hold back, to speak aloud
This is no place for a weak crowd
For strong men only gather here
The one’s not scared hold not fear
In brotherhood we meet to say
How ABBA will we know today
Give us back thee only truth
They stoled from our sweet youth.
From Thoughts Out of My Mind
2009
The Traveler Weekly 