All this smog puts me to thinking

Of the day that use to be,

When I could see the stars twinkling,

And the moon would shine on me.

As I watch this smog get thicker,

Until the yuk shuts off the light,

I see visions of my childhood,

When the sky was clear and bright.

And I think about tomorrow,

Of the day that's sure to come,

When we tell our skeptic offspring’s,

How we once could see the sun.

1958  Los Angeles