[00:11.94]God, what a mess, on the ladder of success
[00:18.78]Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung
[00:20.64]Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled
[00:29.52]It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
[00:34.23]We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
[00:35.34]We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
[00:36.27]The daughters and the sons
[00:53.31]Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom
[00:59.88]Elvis in the ground, there'll ain't no beer tonight
[01:04.95]Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function
[01:11.22]It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
[01:15.42]We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
[01:16.59]We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
[01:17.52]Now the daughters and the sons
[01:58.89]Unwillingness to claim us, you got no word to name us
[02:01.23]The ones who love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest
[02:05.79]And visit their graves on holidays at best
[02:09.12]The ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please
[02:15.69]If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them
[02:21.81]We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
[02:22.86]We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
[02:23.76]The daughters and the sons
[02:25.32]Young, young
[02:25.50]Young, young, young
[02:25.77]Take it's yours
[02:31.47]Take it's yours
[03:00.27]Take it's yours
[03:03.72]...

God, what a mess, on the ladder of success
Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung
Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled
It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom
Elvis in the ground, there'll ain't no beer tonight
Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function
It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no-one, bastards of young
Now the daughters and the sons
Unwillingness to claim us, you got no word to name us
The ones who love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest
And visit their graves on holidays at best
The ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please
If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Young, young
Young, young, young
Take it's yours
Take it's yours
Take it's yours
...