Well, I was sittin' on the corner, 
I was smokin' on the sly. 
When along comes a grownup, 
From the grownup F.B.I. 
He says, "This ain't 
Marlboro country, hon. 
Where'd you get your cigarettes? 
You know you are too young." 
Then up stepped three more 
Governmental nuts, 
Who'd been laying in the gutter, 
Disguised as cigarette butts. 


Called for the sergeant, 
He rolled up in a hearse. 
And he called me a lousy, 
No-good, juvenile pervert. 
He gave me a lecture, 
On cancer of the lung. 
Said, "Anyone who smokes, 
Is a low-down, dirty bum. 
Don't let me catch you smokin', 
around again," he said. 
And he took another drag, 
Of his cigarette. 

If you think I'm hating grownups, 
You're got me all wrong. 
They're very nice people, 
When they stay where they belong. 
But we're the younger generation, 
And your rules are giving me fixations. 
I've got those younger generation, 
Regurgitation blues. 

I was going down the corner, 
I was going against the light, 
Which had just turned green, 
Up comes this guy. 
Says, "Don't you know, 
That's a federal offense? 
Seems like kids your age, 
Just ain't got no sense. 
Don't you know you're risking, 
Juvenile arrest? 
Committing suicide, 
Is punishable by death." 

If you think I'm hating grownups, 
You're got me all wrong. 
They're very nice people, 
When they stay where they belong. 
But we're the younger generation, 
And your rules are giving me fixations. 
I've got those younger generation, 
Regurgitation blues.