Оригинален текст
My poor generation,
we're on for the ride,
an ocean of choices,
pulled out on the tide.
we're handed a beach ball,
and told to pick a side.
drowned in information.
my poor generation.
My poor generation
don't know what it means,
the shock of the mountain
compared to magazines.
is it timeless and holy,
or just a hill of beans?
lost in union station.
my poor generation.