Lonely sound I hear,
The phantom of music ringing in my ear.
"How can I ever say,
The words that I have for the children today:
Oh, dark clouds over head, why do you play?
The night's closing in, you could die today."

Searching, search near & far,
Crying his heart on a broken guitar.
When he has a message to bring,
He writes it a song & his message he sings.
He would walk endless roads in hope yet to find,
The beat of true love & hear peace of mind.

Born in an age of peace, love & hope,
With music that lived,
But now in the dark we dance & we grope.
The dead generation of music become,
Hardened of heart to the pains of their day,
And filled up its ears,
With heart-numbing sounds that have nothing to say.

Feeling disillusion & pain,
The song of a wound crying out once again.
Sad song you may never hear,
But I'll sing it for you, it's for you that I fear.
Go, dance as you will, no need to ask why,
The dead generation of music has died.