Hey, where are your high-platform shoes,
And where did you shove your double-breasted suit?
Better put your house slippers far away, old man,
Come on, earlier you wouldn't give even five cents for them
But you used to be beatnik, o-o-oh
You used to be beatnik, o-o-oh
You would give away your soul for rock'n'roll,
Extracted from someone's diaphragm's X-Ray.
And now you have TV, newspapers, football,
And your old mom is happy with that
But you used to be beatnik, o-o-oh
You used to be beatnik, o-o-oh
The rock'n'roll time is gone forever,
Gray hair cooled your young mind off.
But I believe, and I'm happy to think so,
That deep inside you're still the same.
But you used to be beatnik, o-o-oh
You used to be beatnik, o-o-oh