It looks to me like the iconic photo was shot on a Sunday
Behind an abbey that was soundless with loud prayers
The traffic was more human than mechanical
On the broad, asphalted spine of a skinned, dead zebra
Where four men created a useful, eye-catching scene
With their stern military march of youthful legs,
Coming together, yet drifting solemnly apart,
Each carrying that weight of something serious.
At Penny Lane,
among Strawberry Fields,
which swished in global excitement
and superbly choreographed words,
came a voice deep and long —
a voice we will hear time after time —
the voice of John
a protest of Lennon.
It looks to me like the iconic photo was shot on a Sunday
Behind an abbey that was soundless with loud prayers
The traffic was more human than mechanical
On the broad, asphalted spine of a skinned, dead zebra
Where four men created a useful, eye-catching scene
With their stern military march of youthful legs,
Coming together, yet drifting solemnly apart,
Each carrying that weight of something serious.
At Penny Lane,
among Strawberry Fields,
which swished in global excitement
and superbly choreographed words,
came a voice deep and long —
a voice we will hear time after time —
the voice of John
a protest of Lennon.