[Originally by The Replacements]

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, !@$(s of young
We are the sons of no one, !@$(s of young

The daughters and the sons

Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom

Elvis in the ground, there'll 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, !@$(s of young
We are the sons of no one, !@$(s 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, !@$(s of young
We are the sons of no one, !@$(s of young
The daughters and the sons


Young... take it, it's yours...