It's good to feel wanted..good to be alive,
For a while I was down..but I'm glad I survived...
To see your cute little face..hear your sweet baby voice,
It takes me back to the days,when I was 'one of the boys'
We'd call for our girl,then when the evening was gone...
We'd still see them home..(though sometimes at dawn)
We knew it was wrong,to keep the girls out so late..
But we were young,and the girls?..they were all special dates.
We knew that their parents, would be angry and mad..
And if a door suddenly opened..it was sure to be her Dad!
Oh,there were'nt any shotguns, no weapons in sight,
He did'nt need weapons to give us a fright.
Then next day we'd meet,and exchange a few tales..
Was her father still angry..was her mother still pale?
But we never did learn..never really heeded..
It was worth all the risk..to see the girl you needed!
And the hippies 'free love'?..well,yes it was there..
For the hippies and beatniks, with the flowers in their hair!
In their own little world,drugged up to the eyes..
Hardly surprising that so many of them died!
So were we all angels?..no,you're quite right,
We'd sometimes want more,when we cuddled up tight,
But in those far distant days..as I recollect..
For your girl,for your parents..there was always respect!
Now the sixties have gone,and I'm no longer young..
The songs we loved then?..they're still being sung..
And like those old songs..I know I'll survive,
I'm healthy,I'm happy..just glad to be alive.