Dead Generation

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Neon lights, but the streets stay dark. Slick suits feeding on a hollow heart. They sell us dreams in a plastic wrap. Trade your soul for a five-second clap. Kids with chains, but no escape. Running circles in a broken tape. Shadows crawl where the sun won't touch. Freedom's a word, but it don't mean much. We're the dead generation. No pulse, no salvation. Chasing gold in a paper sky. We live, we burn, we die. Oh. We're the dead generation. No hope, no foundation. Turn the channel, don't ask why. We live, we burn, we die. Oh. Billboards screaming in my face. Buy your worth in a number space. They build a cage, then hand you the key. Call it life, but it's misery. We drown in noise and call it a song. March to the beat, but the beat feels wrong. Lies drip sweet like a candy shell. We're digging a hole, but calling it well. Oh.