Sorting through my things See what I can find Picking through the past See what's left behind Multi-colored sweaters That moths have eaten holes A paire of breaded mocassins with worn out soles Boots were made for walking Winds were blowing change Boys fall in the jungle As I Came of Age Black and white TV With a broken 12-inch screen Dylan's Highway 61 And Jackie's love machine I reread your letters and again I cry great tears Light comes to the surface Even after all these years