| No matter how they taunt you
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| You mustn’t blame the young
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| For being very beautiful
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| And having so much fun
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| They dance around in discotheques
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| They sing salacious songs
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| They prance about on playing fields
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| With next to nothing on
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| They don’t see the hidden dangers
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| That keep the old indoors
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| They all want to be famous
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| Though they don’t know what for
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| They do not fear the sting of life
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| For they’ve yet to be stung
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| So don’t blame the young
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| Teachers don’t give them too much homework
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| Parents don’t give them a hard time
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| For soon they’ll be stressing bout their own work
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| And dreaming of the lives and loves they left behind
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| So even though they flaunt it
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| Please don’t blame the young
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| For seeming quite undaunted
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| By the shape of things to come
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| They’re wedded to their mobiles
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| You can’t turn the damn thing on
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| But don’t blame the young
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| Teachers don’t give them too much homework
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| Parents don’t give them a hard time
|
| For soon they’ll be stressing bout their own work
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| And dreaming of the lives and loves they left behind
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| So even when they tell you
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| «You just don’t know what it’s like
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| To be this young and virile
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| This fervor full of life»
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| Resist the overwhelming urge
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| To punch them in the face
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| Screaming «I would give you every penny
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| I have ever made to take your place»
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| Cause you know that they won’t listen
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| The young never do
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| They will live forever
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| They will never be like you
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| And with advances in genetics
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| Who are we to say they’re wrong
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| No don’t blame the young
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| You can pity them
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| But don’t blame the young |