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Why must the young die so young
Before they're allowed to bloom
And your mamma, no, she ain't never gonna be the same
with the picture frame and the pieces left behind
Yes may your wings carry you high, sweet Rosie
One last teenage flight of lust
Like feathers in the dust we rise
And I'm calling out, calling out for time to reverse
But the clock has chimed and the bird has flown
Yes may your wings carry you high, sweet Rosie
No, you know your mamma
She ain't never gonna be the same
'Cause the devil he made the light
He made light with your life
And your mamma won't be the same till you fly on home
