Some of us are Rock n' Roll stars
Chasing the flash and travel
Most of us wear the right length of hair
But that's all that is left of the dream
Oh, the dream it was born in the summer of love
And it died with the Woodstock Nation
But what has it left for the carpenter's son
And the new coming generation?
Oh, we all believed we knew the way
But fate did not agree
Now we've tired of asking who we are
And what we ought to be
Children of the night howling at the gate
Here to claim forgotten dreams
Too late, too late
Orphans of the darkness
Waiting to belong
Been list'ning to the same old story
Too long to care, too long