Well, by the mid-'70s Patti Smith really couldn't help it: she was bashing out guitar feedback, copping Keith Richards stances, and screaming out raw poetry laced with surreal images.
The guppie (gay urban professional) with a partner and a Porsche was replacing the free love advocate with a placard and a toke.
Once they tell me that rubbish, it's, Date's over, kthxbye.
Date's over, kthxbye.
I look at the little sprigs of chickweed trembling among the bean shoots and I am strangely moved. Such steadfastness! Such yearning! They want to live too. That is all they ask: to have their little moment in the world.
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