Methuselah

Studying the climate of the little ice age Under the fellowship of the national science foundation Donald Currey comes to believe the pines on the White Mountain Are older than previously thought Only here can he know How the weather goed Seven hundred years before Searching for the oldest living bristlecones On a former glacier in the Snake Ridge of Old Nevada Quite unwitting Donald Currey felled the tree he sought To gain a complete cross-section Only when it was dead Did he know he had What he was looking for Don't you see me? I'm on the edge, I'm on the edge Don't you hear me? I'm on the edge, I'm peeking over Don't you feel me? I'm on the edge, I'm on the edge, I'm on the edge Blowing down the mountainside Look to the air and you'll find me there Whistling through your clothes Rib cage, blossoming in the snow After your insides have made a feast For the jackals and the crows Your song will echo down below Don't you see me? I'm on the edge, I'm on the edge Don't you hear me? I'm on the edge, I'm peeking over Don't you feel me? I'm on the edge, I'm on the edge, I'm on the edge Blowing down the mountainside After the death of Methuselah The orange clouds will grow Bad dreams, full of lightning The sea has gone in the forest Carried him up the sticks, on the frogs Wolf pack, swimming through the fog Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave to mankind Enabling the onset of civilization He was bound to a rock And an eagle would feed on his liver each day It's the seat of all human emotion Only when you are dead Will you know you had What you were looking for