While surfing on an atomic bomb
Dad sipped gasoline in a honking line,
With waves of heat several blocks long,
Tempers soared, but we kids were fine;
Hell! We were promised flying cars
Despite Martians eating our guitars.

Prom queens with feathers took flight
As we soared to the highest volume,
In a world decreasingly black and white
And a color TV in every living room,
But we totally knew who our enemy was
As we fought the political Santa Claus.

While Mother Russia ate her own
And answered to our Olympic boycott
We fought to avoid a bogus chaperone...