Age Of Treason

On a lone and windy hilltop beneath a roof of tin In a little wallpapered bedroom I done my growin' 'Twas there I dreamt my dreams, I hung my jeans And wandered through my puberty as all do My mother was a tight nut bound up with false guilt Strapped up in her fearing wall she had built The independent girl in a dark and cruel world She'd lost the way to say, "OK, now lay back" We disagreed on most things, I shouted peace and love The family is mankind, the symbol of the dove She only saw the surface of things before her face But 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 underpaid So 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 two He once had been a Mason but he never followed through Always kind and thoughtful, smelling of mushy oil And he read me poetry of visionaries I flunk my way to college, a looser kind of school But we bobbed and played time arty, feeling cool Just to live an artists diggin' the ravin' scene Reading 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 cla*ses I done right disgrace to the working cla*ses I done right disgrace to the working cla*ses I done right disgrace to the working cla*ses