I found a picture of my mother in her bell-bottom jeans
Flowers in her hair and two fingers up for peace
In that Polaroid she smiles, a grown up baby boomer
Maybe momma walked down the wild side, walking on the moon
And what will they say about us?
I've heard stories about my grandpa, child of the great depression
How growing up broke creates a deep and dark impression
He sits in a rocker down at the Veterans' home
Even when I go to visit, he's still rocking all alone
And what will they say about us?
They'll call us generation lost or generation greed
Or the connected generation to a plasma screen
Or a generation why, enough is not enough
Or maybe they'll call us generation love, generation love
We are children of divorce and victims of dysfunction
We spell check of course and GPS the proper junction
We've gotten pretty good at 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 the connected generation to a plasma screen
Or a generation why, enough is not enough
Or maybe they'll call us generation love
When they open up our time capsule a hundred years from now
Maybe they will look inside and see we figured out
How to live with less and give ourselves away
Just maybe they'll call us, just maybe they'll call us
Generation love, yeah yeah yeah