Hey friend
I wish I could bring you from the hole
And you found in a nutshell a place to call home

And I wonder
Why do the good die young?

I think I've found my friends
They're not in my head, they were ahead of me
And I wish I could eat your depression
Then I'd have no complaint at all

My friend
You should've come over, but it's too late
Won't you awake from the nightmare to call me at the gate?

And I wonder
Why do the good die young?

I'm glad Ana didn't wreck your life for good
I'm on my knees for you
Could you take me to that place in a little town?
I would wait till tomorrow

And when all the things are clearly dying
I'll burn my knees and pray
We all need a change, but to irritate
Those ones who hate

A place to call home
I'd have no complaint
Call me at the gate
I'm on my knees for you
Why do the good die young?