I was here. I became it. I was an activist. 1-2-3-4 what are we fighting for? The passion exudes me from my fingers to my toes. I write this with shaky fingers. Open up the pearly gates. I know I am this song. This song and Me and Bobby McGee and Monday Monday and The Beat goes on. I own them. They are me...the dancing just comes. I can feel it in my bones. I eat it. I suck it in and inhale. I drink it and it seeps from my skin. It is me. It is me. It is mine. I can't buy anything. Nothing at all. And I want it. I want to own the 60's. I want to own the war. I want to own the clothes. I want to own the drugs. I want to own the activism. It is me. It is me. I just want to buy it.