I found a picture of my mother in her bell-bottom jeansFlowers in her hair, two fingers up for peaceIn that Polaroid she smiled, a grown-up baby boomerMaybe mama walked on the wild side, walking on the moonAnd what will they say about us?I've heard stories about my grandpa, child of the Great DepressionNow growing up broke creates a deep and dark impressionHe sits in a rocker down at the veteran's homeEven when I go to visit, he's still rocking all aloneAnd what will they say about us?What will they say about us?They call us generation lost, or generation freeOr the connected generation to a plasma screenOr a generation wide, enough is not enoughOr maybe they'll call us generation lowA generation of loveWe are children of divorce, victims of dysfunctionWe spell check, of course, and GPS the proper junctionWe've gotten pretty good at shifting all the blameBut I think I hear an old song calling my new nameGeneration lostNot generation lostOr generation greenOr the connected generation to a plasma screenOr a generation wide, enough is not enoughOr maybe they'll call us generation lowOh, generation loveWhen they open up our time capsule a hundred years from nowMaybe they will look inside and see we've figured outHow to live with lessAnd give ourselves awayJust maybe they'll call usJust maybe they'll call usGeneration of loveYeah, yeah, yeahWe are a brand new generation of oldGeneration of loveWe are a brand new generation of old*