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