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Dave Buker and The Historians
All rights reserved

I’m getting further and further 
From dying young 
And it’d be a lie to say 
It don’t scare me much 
But it’s nothing compared 
To what I’m really afraid of 
The feeling of moving on 

I know my body might fail 
My brain could lose its detail 
The voice that I have 
Could turn to whispers and wails 
And the blood in my veins 
Full of prescribed pills 
Could kill everything good in there 

I’m so scared, oh 
Of days to come 
I’m so scared, oh 
Of the dream being done 
I’m so scared of the person 
I might become 
I’m so scared, oh 

Someday we might get hitched 
Have a couple of kids 
Move to a yuppie white suburb 
With a white picket fence 
And dine with all our friends 
And their bronze, fake-tanned skin 
Who never talk religion or politics 

Reading horoscopes like gospels 
Of new-age apostles 
And palm readers poring over life lines 
But the life we thought we wanted 
At the cost of how we fought it 
Is the only truth they’ll find 

And all the psychics say 
“Joy is a day away 
And you’ll find peace” 
But it’d be different if I had faith 
In magic or a saving grace 
But it’s not in me