But we bobbed and played time arty, feeling cool
So the man worked with his hands up and down the land
Had nothing, born a poor boy barefoot and underpaid
I done right disgrace to the working classes
Always kind and thoughtful, smelling of mushy oil
The independent girl in a dark and cruel world
She only saw the surface of things before her face
He once had been a Mason but he never followed through
The family is mankind, the symbol of the dove
We disagreed on most things, I shouted peace and love
But I was young and argued on for hours
Strapped up in her fearing wall she had built
I flunk my way to college, a looser kind of school
His dreams forgot he thought that I must follow
'Twas there I dreamt my dreams, I hung my jeans
I done right disgrace to the working classes
My mother was a tight nut bound up with false guilt
And wandered through my puberty as all do
And what was I to do? The choices they were few
I was not academic, Art and English neat
Reading Kerouac and Ginsberg well deuced
My father he liked poetry, a scholar he might have made
And he read me poetry of visionaries
With his marks as worker's wisdom he'd read a thing or two
I done right disgrace to the working classes
She'd lost the way to say, "OK, now lay back"
Just to live an artists diggin' the ravin' scene
The history of mankind I liked that a bit
