I found a picture of my mother in her bell-bottom jeans
Flowers in her hair, two fingers up for peace
In that Polaroid she smiled, a grown-up baby boomer
Maybe mama walked on the wild side, walking on the moon
And what will they say about us?
I've heard stories about my grandpa, child of the Great Depression
Now growing up broke creates a deep and dark impression
He sits in a rocker down at the veteran's home
Even when I go to visit, he's still rocking all alone
And what will they say about us?
What will they say about us?
They call us generation lost, or generation free
Or the connected generation to a plasma screen
Or a generation wide, enough is not enough
Or maybe they'll call us generation low
A generation of love
We are children of divorce, victims of dysfunction
We spell check, of course, and GPS the proper junction
We've gotten pretty good at shifting all the blame
But I think I hear an old song calling my new name
Generation lost
Not generation lost
Or generation green
Or the connected generation to a plasma screen
Or a generation wide, enough is not enough
Or maybe they'll call us generation low
Oh, generation love
When they open up our time capsule a hundred years from now
Maybe they will look inside and see we've figured out
How to live with less
And give ourselves away
Just maybe they'll call us
Just maybe they'll call us

Generation of love
Yeah, yeah, yeah
We are a brand new generation of old
Generation of love
We are a brand new generation of old
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