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letra de age of treason - donovan

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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 p-b-rty 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 cl-sses

i done right disgrace to the working cl-sses
i done right disgrace to the working cl-sses
i done right disgrace to the working cl-sses.

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