Oh youth, is wasted on the young. I’ve been hearing this lately rolling off my tongue. So, my ground is in the past, so listen up closely: This could be my last. Does it matter what my age is, Lord? Am I the dust from the swept up floor? I had a song for the ages, forgotten in the pages. Come here. I’ve got something to say. If you’ve heard it already, you can go out and play. So, I’ll look you in the eyes. So, now you’re all near me; there’s no need to cry. Does it matter what my age is, Lord? Am I the dust from the swept up floor? I had a song for the ages, forgotten in the pages.
Oh youth, is wasted on the young. I’ve been hearing this lately rolling off my tongue. So, my ground is in the past, so listen up closely: This could be my last. Does it matter what my age is, Lord? Am I the dust from the swept up floor? I had a song for the ages, forgotten in the pages. Come here. I’ve got something to say. If you’ve heard it already, you can go out and play. So, I’ll look you in the eyes. So, now you’re all near me; there’s no need to cry. Does it matter what my age is, Lord? Am I the dust from the swept up floor? I had a song for the ages, forgotten in the pages.
