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