1957 was the year when sputnik flied (like an angel)
The era where young presidents died
The time when musicians thought
They could change the world.
Under atomic skies
Could I be content with the things I lack?
Could I be content with the things I have?
I'm s** a malcontent
I'll never be content
This was the century when young boys died
Like lemmings.
When science reigned supreme
And gods prayed
When everything was possible
But left undone