i wish that i was nine years younger
back then i could have stopped that train
my soul is made of grief and hunger

since then i've gone and made a blunder
and it happens again and again
i wish that i was nine years younger

my son fills me with so much wonder
a reflection from a window pane
my soul is made of grief and hunger

outside i hear a roaring thunder
frustration that i can't explain
i wish that i was nine years younger

i'm trying hard to not go under
i'm in no position to complain
my soul is made of grief and hunger

the square root of a complex number
the direction of a weather vane
i wish that i was nine years younger
my soul is made of grief and hunger