Coming to the edge of seventeen
Not a breath of air left to be breathed
Taken for two weeks to get some sleep
My voice is tired, I cannot find the energy to speak
Coming to the edge of suicide
But not just yet, cos there's too much to try
Sampling dealers hands just for a muse
A cigarette could sure exacerbate these blues
And what you think about instead
Belongs nowhere but in your head
And can you rest so well-assured
That you will never get so bored
Of all the questions? Asking,
Who, what, where, when, why, how are you?
Coming to the edge of twenty-one
Still worry bout the people and their guns
Coming off it, cos it's a little bit down
Come off a couple in the dark, we'll find our own way down
Traded in the forest for the streets
We never have to worry bout police
(Never have to worry bout police)
At twenty-two you're testing out
A time machine to bring you back
To youth with new perspective
Teaching truths is your directive, so it seems
What happens to us when we're dead
(What happens to us when we're, what happens to us when we're dead)
Is not something that must be said
(It's not something that must be, it's not something that must be said)
But can we rest so self-assured
That we will never get so bored
Of all the questions? asking
Who, what, where, when, why, how are you now?
What happens to us when we're dead
(What happens to us when we're, what happens to us when we're dead)
Is not something that must be said
(It's not something that must be, it's not something that must be said)
But can we rest so self-assured
That we will never get so bored
Of all the questions? asking
Who, what, where, when, why, how are you now?