Perfect Timing

It was 1990, give or take, I don't remember When the news of revolution hit the air The girls hadn't even started taking down our posters When the boys started cutting off their hair The radio stations all decided angst was finally old enough It ought to have a proper home Dead, fat, or rich, nobody's left to bitch About the goings on in self-destructive zones The night the practice room caught fire There were rumors of a dragon headed straight for Muscle Shoals "Stoner tries to save an amplifier" And it's like the dragon's side of the story is never told When the dream and the man and the girls hang around long enough To make you think it's coming true It's easier to let it all die a fairy tale Than admit that something bigger is passing through The hippies rode a wave putting smiles on faces That the devil wouldn't even put a shoe Caught between a generation dying from its habits And another thinking rock and roll was new 'Til the pawn shops were packed like a backstage party Hanging full of pointy ugly cheap guitars And the youngins all turned to karaoke Hanging all their wishes upon disregarded stars My granddaddy's shotgun is locked in a closet And it never shot a thing that could have lived An old man decided that you couldn't choose your poison 'Til you're nearly old enough to vote for him They turned what was into something so disgusting Even wild dogs would disregard the bones Dead fat or rich nobody's left to bitch About the goings on in self-destructive zones