grandpa hit the golden shores of freedom on the run from a government that governed down the barrel of a gun he'd lost a lot of family; he'd lost a lot of friends it was like another planet, one where everything depended on the mercy of the monarch, the wisdom of the state they waited for a thousand years, but nothing ever changed so they walked across the deserts and sailed across the seas went looking for that statue in the land of liberty anyone could see that they were stuck
stuck in the middle stuck in the middle of the beginning of the end
papa was a farm boy, california born growing up in paradise until the second war when they put him in an airplane and loaded it with bombs sent him over there, said 'don't come back until they're gone' they dropped 'em on the cities, they dropped 'em on the towns they were tryin' to blow up hitler, he was tryin' to shoot 'em down now papa hated killin' just as much as you and me but he knew he had to do it; he could tell instinctively that he was stuck
stuck in the middle stuck in the middle of the beginning of the end
of the end of the tunnel at the end of the line it's the end of the american century the end of the endless summertime
now they've handed us the mantle and they've handed us the key left us sitting here in limbo in the lap of luxury with a pocket full of credit cards and a mountain full of debt and a picture of the future that i'd just as soon forget they got heavy metal poison and the voices on tv and a million cartoon images of how it's supposed to be with a changing set of values more depressing every day till i wish that just like grandpa, i could make my getaway but there's no place left to go; i guess i'm stuck
stuck in the middle stuck in the middle of the beginning of the end i guess i'm stuck in the middle of the beginning of the end looks like i'm stuck in the middle of the beginning of the end