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