Hazy sunny days like a hippies seventies dream
Just called in to the beergarden I will sit watching the birds in the trees
Think I will have one more or perhaps four more ,honey to the bees
The blood rises out of the soil to meet a cursing sky
The apes of wrath rape the grapes that hang like virgins on the vine
But they will pass and once again we will sow the wine of the quaffing divine