On a lone and windy hilltop beneath a roof of tinIn a little
wallpapered bedroom I done my growin'.'Twas there I
dreamt my dreams, I hung my jeansAnd wandered through my puberty
as all do.My mother was a tight nut bound up with false
guiltStrapped up in her fearing wall she had built.The
independent girl in a dark and cruel worldShe'd lost the
way to say, "OK, now lay back".We disagreed on most things, I
shouted peace and loveThe family is mankind, the symbol of the
dove.She only saw the surface of things before her faceBut I was
young and argued on for hours.My father he liked poetry, a
scholar he might have made.Had nothing, born a poor boy barefoot
and underpaidSo the man worked with his hands up and down the
land,His dreams forgot he thought that I must follow.With his
marks as worker's wisdom he'd read a thing or twoHe
once had been a Mason but he never followed through.Always kind
and thoughtful, smelling of mushy oilAnd he read me poetry of
visionaries.I flunk my way to college, a looser kind of
schoolBut we bobbed and played time arty, feeling coolJust to
live an artists diggin' the ravin' sceneReading
Kerouac and Ginsberg well deuced.I was not academic, Art and
English neat,The history of mankind I liked that a bit.And what
was I to do ? The choices they were few,I done right disgrace to
the working classesI done right disgrace to the working classesI
done right disgrace to the working classesI done right disgrace
to the working classes
Send "Age Of Treason" Ringtone to your Cell 
