Down my long seventeen-year-old hair
That I tied up now and then
Sometimes bare hands slipped
Along the long nights in the gloom
I'd tell myself, that's it, I'm sinking
And I'd wait for dawn
Five or six years of almost nothing
Stupid age, desperate age
Five or six years, I remember
I was clay and fire mixed
Along the long hallways of that high school
Where I was bored to death
I wrote words on the walls
Without anyone seeing me, of course
Along the long black-and-white days
Both hands hidden in my sleeves
I'd have given anything to be elsewhere
Five or six years of almost nothing
Stupid age, desperate age
Five or six years, I remember
I was clay and fire mixed
Along the long agonizing Sundays
God I hated the present
And I took refuge in my tower
Along the long clandestine letters
That I'd write like a heroine
I imagined in great secret
That someone would die for me
Five or six years of almost nothing
Stupid age, desperate age
Five or six years, I remember
I was clay and fire mixed
Down my long seventeen-year-old hair
That you tied up now and then
Sometimes bare hands slipped
Along the long nights in the gloom
I'd tell myself, that's it, I'm sinking
And I'd wait for dawn
Five or six years of almost nothing
Stupid age, desperate age
Five or six years, I remember
I was clay and fire mixed
Five or six years of almost nothing