We are the defeated generation, and we never had a chance. We lost before we could compete.
We are the lost generation, the roads have all been charted, the wild lands left tamed, there are no more seas to sail.
We are the stranded generation, nowhere to go, no way to get there. Our parents burned our boats.
We are the depressed generation, no new dreams to live. Everything possible has been exploited and our art is all reruns.
We are the recycled generation, what was before is here again. It will come tomorrow as well.
We are the lost. We are the denied. We are the next step in the downward spiral. We are the hollow, the all together misunderstood and irrelevant. Our gods made celluloid, cardboard and pigment, then dust then lost. Our rituals grasp at the past, forever slipping finger by finger and mote by mote, losing coherency and validity.
What our parents had, we cannot. What our parents wished for, we cannot. What our parents hoped for, we cannot. Where our parents lived, we cannot. Where our parents worked, we cannot. Where our parents worshipped, we cannot. Where our parents shopped, we cannot. What our parents drove, we cannot. What they saw at the drive in, we cannot. What they watched on television, we cannot. What music moved their souls, we cannot. What possessed them to strive, we cannot. This is the disconnect, this is the denial of everything that came before, this is the turning away, and we cannot.
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Date: 2004-10-06 07:52 pm (UTC)We are the lost generation, the roads have all been charted, the wild lands left tamed, there are no more seas to sail.
We are the stranded generation, nowhere to go, no way to get there. Our parents burned our boats.
We are the depressed generation, no new dreams to live. Everything possible has been exploited and our art is all reruns.
We are the recycled generation, what was before is here again. It will come tomorrow as well.
We are the lost. We are the denied. We are the next step in the downward spiral. We are the hollow, the all together misunderstood and irrelevant. Our gods made celluloid, cardboard and pigment, then dust then lost. Our rituals grasp at the past, forever slipping finger by finger and mote by mote, losing coherency and validity.
What our parents had, we cannot. What our parents wished for, we cannot. What our parents hoped for, we cannot. Where our parents lived, we cannot. Where our parents worked, we cannot. Where our parents worshipped, we cannot. Where our parents shopped, we cannot. What our parents drove, we cannot. What they saw at the drive in, we cannot. What they watched on television, we cannot. What music moved their souls, we cannot. What possessed them to strive, we cannot. This is the disconnect, this is the denial of everything that came before, this is the turning away, and we cannot.