A young generation living for sensation,
Trying to be cool, but inside they have a hole,
Sick and tired of pretending,
Don't even care if the world is ending,
A wounded generation betrayed by the one before.
Living for the moment,
Living for the moment.
Lost in the marketplace of all religions,
Told to pick and choose what suits and feels the best,
Given all the substitutes, but no love and compassion,
Left in a video world, given over to imagination.
I like them, I like them,
I like them, I like them.
A lonely generation with no one to talk to,
Raised to be suspicious against love,
Who can give them what they are looking for?
None but the man from Nazareth.
And he likes them, he likes them,
He likes them, he likes them,
He likes them, he loves them.
He likes them, he loves them,
He loves them, he likes them,
He likes them, he likes them,
He loves them, he loves them.
He loves them, he likes them,
He loves them, he likes them, yeah,
He loves them, loves them, loves them.
Writer(s): Ulf Mats Christiansson, Michael Lars Ake Ulvsgard, Peter Bo Torbjoern Carlsohn, Reidar Ingvald Paulsen
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