Echoes of the Sixties
In the house of the rising sun I wait
a runaway heart
asking where did our love go
letters lost with please Mr Postman
and the night begins to hum
Paint it black whispers through
Monday Monday streets
a nowhere man chasing baby love
you really got me caught between my girl
crying yesterday into the dark
The sound of silence asks
will you love me tomorrow
only the lonely
stand all along the watchtower
California dreamin of a touch
I can’t get no satisfaction
Still I stand by me
unchained melody
moving through a whiter shade of pale
good vibrations stir as I light my fire
and the end lingers like a song
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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