God, what a mess
On the ladder of success
Where you take one step
And miss the whole first rungDreams unfulfilled
Graduate unskilled
It beats pickin' cotton
And waitin' to be forgottenWe are the sons of no one
Bastards of young
We are the sons of no one
Bastards of young
The daughters and the sonsClean your baby womb
Trash that baby boom
Elvis in the ground
There ain't no beer tonightIncome tax deduction
What a hell of a function
It beats pickin' cotton
And waitin' to be forgottenWe are the sons of no one
Bastards of young
We are the sons of no one
Bastards of young
The daughters and the sonsUnwillingness
To claim us
Ya got no word
To name usThe ones who love us best
Are the ones we'll lay to rest
And visit their graves
On holidays at bestThe ones who love us least
Are the ones we'll die to please
If it's any consolation
I don't begin to understand themWe 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, young, young
Take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yoursTake it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours