ROYGBIV RingRattling down the street in that gold Plymouth duster, tawny interior, our knees in knit bell bottoms lightly touching as we shout the lyrics at the tops of our lungs. Rambling on like wild roses, on our way to the show, exuberant in summer twilight, spilling out of the car, a party in the parking lot. Psychedelic, stained glass, a swirl of color, you could see the Billys Low Bar from outerspace, and thats a little how we feel right now light as air,