When was it

We lost feeling strong?

When we lost knowing about

Right and wrong

And made Strawberry Fields’s

Hallowed ground!

A memorial to a famous writers, deafening sound

Where imagine wasn’t just a trite phrase

But the only hope for human days

When was it we traded our loud sound?

And marched instead to hallowed ground

Where we once knew a meadow

To run through the night

And gangly legs danced, with great delight

When was it we lost our way

Yielding to a tearful reminder of a greatness’-day

Now a place of sleeping till judgement day

Imagine that, imagine this, Imagine if John

Had raised his mighty fists!