Originally by The Replacements

God, what a mess, on the ladder of success



Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung



Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled



It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten

We are the sons of no one, bastards of young



We are the sons of no one, bastards of young



The daughters and the sons

Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom



Elvis in the ground, there'll ain't no beer tonight



Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function



It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten

We are the sons of no one, bastards of young



We are the sons of no one, bastards of young



The daughters and the sons

Unwillingness to claim us, ya got no word (war? no one?) to name us

The ones who love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest



And visit their graves on holidays at best



The ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please



If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them

We are the sons of no one, bastards of young



We are the sons of no one, bastards of young



The daughters and the sons

Young... take it, it's yours...