Žodžiai dainai: David Wilcox. Glory.

Well, I'd be dead by thirty-three
That was my best guess
But hey, here I am this morning
Singing happy birthday to me

As I clean up all this mess
Because I'm still left alive
Without warning
In the big, boring middle
Of my long book of life

After the twist has been told
If you don't die in glory
At the age of Christ
Then your story is just getting old

You can see leather-jacket-James
And Jimi, fan the flames
Their posters will always look younger
Ah, but they never knew

And they can't guide us through
The long stretch of spiritual hunger
In the big boring middle
Of my long book of life

After the twist has been told
If you don't die in glory
At the age of Christ
Then your story is just getting old

As a skinny kid she knew
That she should never sell her beauty
But it's a strong narcotic
To feel the public stare

It's like a powerful dose
Of some synthetic self-image
It makes you feel so alive
As long as it is there

And that was how she felt
Not pushed by human hands
She was pushed
By the eyes all around her

So, she fell back into her past
Where her beauty mark would last
So, the camera could never have found her
In the big boring middle
Of my long book of life

After the twist has been told
If you don't die in glory
At the age of Christ
Then your story is just getting old

Now, when Jesus told the rest
That He would have His way
And in death He would not be defeated
Maybe it was all for the best

For what He had to say
Because He would not always
Have to repeat it
Through the big boring middle
Of His long book of life

After He passed thirty-two
If you don't die in glory
At the age of Christ
Then your story is still coming true

Still coming true, still coming true