All the young men cry, "We're so good at getting older,
That they ask us why we're not afraid of getting colder."
When the young men die, people shrug their shoulders,
All the young men cry, "We're so good at getting older,
That they ask us why we're not afraid of getting colder."
When the young men die, the people shrug their shoulders,
Tell me how, t-tell me how-
The young men cry, "We're so good at getting older,
That they ask us why we're not afraid of getting colder."
When the young men die, the people shrug their shoulders,
Tell me, oh, t-tell me, oh-
The young men cry, "We're so good at getting older,
That they ask us why we're not afraid of getting colder."
When the young men die, the people shrug their shoulders,
Do do do, do do do, do do do do doo
Do do do, do do do, do do do do doo
Do do do, do do do, do do do do doo
Do do do, do do do, do do do do doo
Every street is paved with gold.
But baby they don't let you bring,
Young men cry, "We're so good at getting older,
That they ask us why, they ask us why-"
Young men die and they barely shrug their shoulders,
All the young men cry, "We're so good at getting older,
That they ask us why we're not afraid of getting colder."
When the young men die, the people shrug their shoulders,