The hearts of my generation,

broken through temptation.

The youth of my generation,

lost through sensation.

The brave of my generation,

forgotten in translation.

 

Like complex fields of flowers grown in bloom

we’re the beautiful ones marked with doom.

We’re so shy, so calm, so innocent and young,

our only prayer is our song has not been sung.

But if we are the promised people of tomorrow,

will we build a world of stone and sorrow?

Our minds are torn between tomorrow and today,

so young and shy we’ll just do what they say.

 

The hearts of my generation

lie rusted in temptation.

Tortured by the chaos of pain,

all they have is themselves to blame.

The youth of my generation,

were captured by a sensation.

Slaves devoted to their practiced vice,

their blood has been replaced with ice.

And the brave ones of my generation,

were beaten down without translation.