My memories come from the back of a bus Altered people floating through my home, my home, my home. Begging for more, spouting hate, spouting hate about LBJ And, oh yes, they were gonna change, change the world And you can be organic all you please And you can wax nostalgia for what those before you had My memories come from a room of strange smoke And being left all alone, alone, a lone. A saline sister to keep, there was nothing ever there to eat Waited for the vendor to make her rounds, her rounds, her rounds And you can be organic all you please And you can put a flower in a gun but it won't change a thing Organic Organic Organic Don't want to be organic