God, what a mess, on the ladder of success    Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung    Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled    It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten      We are the sons of no one, bastards of young   We are the sons of no one, bastards of young    The daughters and the sons      Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom   Elvis in the ground, there ain't no beer tonight   Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function    It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten      We are the sons of no one, bastards of young   We are the sons of no one, bastards of young   The daughters and the sons      Unwillingness to claim us, ya got no word (war? no one?) to name us      The ones who love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest   And visit their graves on holidays at best    The ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please   If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them      We are the sons of no one, bastards of young   We are the sons of no one, bastards of young   The daughters and the sons      Young...take it, it's yours...