I remember Woodstock
Sure looked good on TV
Gram said "If you end up like that
Don't come crying home to me."
Mom wants me to wear dresses
At school they all wear jeans
I sit up late most nights
Figuring out what it all means

There's a chill in my bloodstream
an aching in my bones
You're never far from hungry
Out in Generation Jones.

They said my dad's a hero
All the uncles and the aunts
Is he still one when he's trying
To get into my pants?
And Cousin Don's a Marxist
And Brucie served in Nam
I lie awake at night
Wondering just which side I'm on.

But you stifle all your crying
and you muffle all your moans
It's just one day of living
Out in Generation Jones.

Here's a pill for all your heartache
For your hungers there's a cure
Just swallow what you're given
And of our concern be sure
Go to meetings and your therapist
In case you have a fright
Take another pill at bedtime
If it keeps you up at night

And your brain will just be tissue
and your heart will be a stone
And you'd better all remember
We're all Generation Jones.

For the class of '76, in the style of Bob Dylan.

(While I was writing this, waiting for the bus outside the supermarket, someone asked me if I was sketching the sunset. I told them I was writing a song. I really like being able to say this.) Let's clarify this: I'm actually 50 years old. I've never written a song before. Someone gave the name 'Generation Jones' to my birth cohort, that is, not Generation X, but not Baby Boomers either. I tender this song, not in a spirit of kitsch, but as a general statement of all of us. 93!

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