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 momma walked down the wild side,
Walking on the moon

What will they say about us?

I've heard stories about my grandpa
child of the great depression
how growing up broke creates and deep and dark impression
He sits in a rocker, down at the veterans home
Even when I got to visit he still rocking all alone

What will they say about us,
They call us generation lost
Or generation greed
or they connect the generation
to a plasma screen or a generation
or a generation why enough is not enough
Or maybe they'll call us
Generation love

We are children of divorce
Victims of dysfunction
We spell check of coarse
And gps the proper junction
We got it "pretty good"
Shifting all the blame

But I think I hear an old song
Calling my new name
Generation love

Not generation lost
Or generation greed
or they connect the generation
to a plasma screen or a generation
or a generation why enough is not enough
Or maybe they'll call us
Generation love

Ohhhh generation love
and when they've become a time capsule
a hundred years from now
Maybe they'll look inside
And see we figured out

how to live and give ourselves away

just maybe they'll call us,
Just maybe they'll call us
Generation love