Why must every generation think that folks are square?
No matter where their heads are, they know mums ain't there.
Cos I swore when I was young that I'd remember when
I knew what's wrong with them, that I was smaller then.
Determined to remember all the cardinal rules,
like sun showers and equal grounds for cutting schools.
I know I have forgotten maybe one or two,
and I hope that I recall them all before the baby's due,
and I know he'll have a question or two.
Like, hey ma, can I go ride my zoo?
It goes 200 miles an hour, suspended on balloons.
And can I put a droplet of this new stuff on my tongue
and imagine frothing dragons while you sit and wreck your lungs?
And I must be permissive, understanding about the younger generation.
And then I know that all I've learned my kid assumes,
and all my deepest worries must be his cartoons.
And still I tell him all the things I've done before,
relating to what he can do when he becomes a man.
And still he'll stick his fingers in the fan.
And hey ma, my girlfriend's only three.
She's got her own videophone, and she's a taken LSD.
And now that we're best friends, she wants to give a bit to me.
But wait a minute, mummy, how come you're turning green?
Can it be that you can live up to your dream?