It was 1990 give or take I don't remember   when the news of revolution hit the air   The girls hadn't even started taking down our posters   when the boys started cutting off their hair   The radio stations all decided angst was finally old enough   it ought to have a proper home   Dead fat or rich nobody’s left to bitch   about the goings' on in self destructive zones      The night the practice room caught fire   there were rumors of a dragon headed straight for Muscle Shoals   "Stoner tries to save an amplifier"   and it's like the dragon's side of the story is never told   When the dream and the man and the girls hang around long enough   to make you think it's coming true,   it's easier to let it all die a fairy tale,   than admit that something bigger is passing through      The hippies rode a wave putting smiles on faces,   that the devil wouldn’t even put a shoe   Caught between a generation dying from its habits,   and another thinking rock and roll was new   Till the pawn shops were packed like a backstage party,   hanging full of pointy ugly cheap guitars   And the young'uns all turned to karaoke,   hanging all their wishes upon disregarded stars      My Grandaddy's shotgun is locked in a closet   and it never shot a thing that could have lived   An old man decided that you couldn't choose your poison   till you're nearly old enough to vote for him   They turned what was into something so disgusting   even wild dogs would disregard the bones   Dead fat or rich nobody’s left to bitch   about the goings' on in self destructive zones