We like the music of the sixties.
It's the Rolling Stones, the Beatles and the Doors.
Flower children, Woodstock and the war.

Ah but it's getting harder to deceive us,
And we don't care if Dylan's gone to Jesus.
Jimmy Hendrix is playing on.

We know Janis Joplin was the rose.
Ah but all the stuff that she put in her arm,
We're not alarmed.

We are the Children of the Eighties. Haven't we grown? (chorus..)

Some of us are the Sisters and the Brothers,
Who take a leather jacket and a single golden earring,
Hang out at discos, rock shows, lose our hearing,
Take uppers, downers, blues and reds and yellows.
Our brains are turning to jello.

We are looking forward to the days,
When we live inside of a purple haze,
And the salvation of the soul is Rock and Roll.

We are the Children of the Eighties. Haven't we grown? (chorus..)

Recently have you looked in our eyes?
Maybe we're your conscience in disguise.
We're well informed and we are wise.
Please stop telling us lies.

We know Afganistan's invaded,
And we know El Salvador's dictated.

Ah but our lives are just begun,
We are the Warriors of the Sun.
We're the Golden Boys and the Golden Girls,
For a better world.