Busted our conga, rusted out Dodge
California dreamin' of an international hodgepodge
An old roach in the ashtray, a closed sidewalk cafe
A saxophone in pieces, a moth-eaten beret

A little bird told me, I heard it on the wind
All of them old beatniks, ah they're gonna rise again
Daddy-o and mommy-o, kiddie-o and me
To a beat cool city landscape in the key of E

Where all our styles of poetry will leap right off the page
And ride upon a hi-igh lonesome riff across the stage
Our lovers will meet us mysteriously in rainy night hotels
And we'll all be always traveling, sometimes under spells

Oh praise the battered sunflower, grows in the Kwik Trip lot
Ah, we'll all get naked in little pairs, and we'll get so loose and so hot
We'll troop across the country; bring joy to the Midwest
Redesign our houses to the shape of a gentle breast

And we'll laugh away the government; we'll laugh away the years
When we get tired of laughing away, ah, we'll taste each other's tears
We'll taste the cool spring water and learn where it can be found
We'll take a little taste of everything, and we'll hand the knowledge down

A little bird told me, I heard it on the wind
All of them old beatniks, ah they're gonna rise again
Daddy-o and mommy-o, kiddie-o and me
To a beat cool city landscape in the key of ecstasy