Written version
There were cuffs on her hands of religion.
Cuffs of beatings she took everyday.
So she stole her Dad’s car.
And bought a guitar,
An’ drove so far far away.
Floppy hat on her head to keep off the sun,
Orange dust rising up from her tires.
She picked up a girl,
Who named herself pearl,
And together they handed out fliers.
A convoy of sorts soon gathered around.
All of them heading to Woodstock.
The men with chests bare.
Girls, flowers in their hair,
A carefree unorthodox flock.
The memories she has of arriving that day,
Regardless of all of the drugs.
Remain decades later,
So she puts them on paper.
Describing the peace and the loves.
She strums her guitar as she recalls the music.
And the arm that slipped round her waist,
As he lies in a chair,
The true love she met there.
Hair grey but restored in her faith.
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