We grow up, grow old
So much they'll ask that can't be told
Waiting for our train,
I'm waiting in vain
The tracks are rusted
And I'm getting cold
Can I just write a note,
And let the ink do the talking?
Is it too soon for stopping?
Can you hear my cells popping?
You be the pin, you're sharp as it is
So this is it
No cure for headsick