Even though you didn't die before you got old,
something seemed to petrify the more you got old.
Some dead prophet said somewhere that all you need is love.
But planning such a plan - it takes a younger man.
Why so pale and wan my generation?

When the revolution failed for sure your heart sank.
The only thing revolving is the door to the bank.
Some dead prophet told you that the answer's in the wind,
but now the air is still and now your voice is shrill.
Oh whither they goodwill my generation?

Weekend chemists make it feel so swell.
This generic no-fault rebel yell.
From LSD to MTV - oh please my generation.

Your old slogans seems so quaint and droll in your head.
Is that an open mind or just a hole in your head?
Some dead prophet told you that the people have the power,
and I believe it's true. But what else can I do?
Can I believe in you my generation?
Or are we really through my generation?
I believe it's true but what else can I do?
Can I believe in you my generation?