Our high schools were goverened by G. Bush & Co.
We had no civil rights once we turned eighteen
There's booze in our lockers, there's hatred in our hearts
And it looks like we might never fit in

We're all so sick of working jobs that we truly hate.
And money's so low in our system of values
We want to do what we love, to hell with the rest.
And smoke cigarettes cos we don't care.

We're all going to die of cancer.
Cos only Africans die of AIDS,
And everything else, there's a cure for...
And we smoke cigarettes cos we don't care.

We've had our fill of lies from the mouths of those in power.
We've had our fill of lies from television.
We've had our fill of lies from all those who ought to matter
We've had our fill of lies from the liars.

We're a generation raised by cellular phones
We're the children of txt msgs, who invented youtube,
We were raised by .com, and technology
And abandoned by both.

We're all on myspace, we're all on Facebook.
We're all made up names, we're all information.
We haven't climbed a tree since middle school.
We haven't played on playgrounds in a year.

Our parties are above-ground pools, or dank and beery basements.
Our photos are all digital, our albums? Witty titles.
Our food is fast, our liquor strong, our minds are getting number.
We think shooting coca-cola is a lyric by The Beatles
Or Aerosmith.

We'll be trapped inside the suburbs, as our country's prices rise.
We'll be buying smaller cars with every oil hike.
We're the last touring bands without horses.
We're the last middle-class to fly in planes.

But maybe then, we'll have time to find Jesus.
Maybe then, we'll have time to make Love.
Maybe then, we'll find we're doing something that we really like.
Maybe then, we'll have time to Make Love.

© Christoph Alexander