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
