Down from yon roof there holds a story
about a man that was never told.
He'd wake up in the morning when the big bell rings
And he'd climb into his treehouse to collect his wings
He'd fly over this town for to call out loud
And pray upon the doors who do not prowl
He'd wish them all hell and he'd glide away
And put away those wings at the end of the day
Saying, hey,
I'm living
Oh,
hey,
I'm living
Well,
he wakes up on the bus heading out of town
With a picture of his girl,
his guitar spun round
Oh,
he starts to play a tune that he don't know how
Little girls and boys begin to sing it,
loud singing
Hey,
I'm living Oh, hey,
I'm living
Well,
thirty years go by,
got the old wings now And the little
girls and boys have become the town
You know,
he sees it in the face of a young
man now And the same reasons to hate,
same reasons so loud
Hey,
I'm living Oh,
hey,
I'm living
Hey,
I'm living Oh, hey, I'm living
Oh,
hey,
I'm living