Mom's just a throw-back to the sixties generation   All that junk like peace and love is just an aggravation   Ain't got no use for transcendental meditation   Mom, your universal love is such a drag      Well, Mom said, "Dad, he might've been a Virgo   Or a head shop owner, or two freaks from San Francisco   A washed out surfer with his body golden tanned   Or some lead singer in a psychedelic band"      Feeding me granola and other flakey stuff   You told me meat was hostile, but I just can't get enough   Being vegetarian just ain't quite my scene   There's only so much you can do with soy beans   Mom, your universal love is such a drag      Mom keeps telling me about her days at Woodstock   Half a million space-balls and all of them with their feet stuck   Freaking out on acid and what Bob Dylan says   I think she's tryin' to turn me into Joan Baez      Oh Mom, can't you tell me where your head's at?   I'm sick to death of hearing about   Where you saw the Grateful Deads at   Oh Mom, don't you know this is the eighties?   Oh Mom, can't you relate to what the date is?      Mom's just a throw-back to the sixties generation   All that junk like peace and love is just an aggravation   Ain't got no use for transcendental meditation   Mom, your universal love is such a drag