Oh Mom

Mom's just a throw-back to the sixties generation

All that junk like peace and love is just an aggravation

Ain't got no use for transcendental meditation

Mom, your universal love is such a drag



Well, Mom said, "Dad, he might've been a Virgo

Or a head shop owner, or two freaks from San Francisco

A washed out surfer with his body golden tanned

Or some lead singer in a psychedelic band"



Feeding me granola and other flakey stuff

You told me meat was hostile, but I just can't get enough

Being vegetarian just ain't quite my scene

There's only so much you can do with soy beans

Mom, your universal love is such a drag



Mom keeps telling me about her days at Woodstock

Half a million space-balls and all of them with their feet stuck

Freaking out on acid and what Bob Dylan says

I think she's tryin' to turn me into Joan Baez



Oh Mom, can't you tell me where your head's at?

I'm sick to death of hearing about

Where you saw the Grateful Deads at

Oh Mom, don't you know this is the eighties?

Oh Mom, can't you relate to what the date is?



Mom's just a throw-back to the sixties generation

All that junk like peace and love is just an aggravation

Ain't got no use for transcendental meditation

Mom, your universal love is such a drag