By the shooting range At the door of the plain A poet lies in the ground His family is there and for years they have stared At the wooden box surround Perhaps he stood there And with phrases had cared To have captured the views he found If you're crossing the line An angel you'll find Deep in the wooded land Don't want to grow much older now I want to feel the sun, sun shine down Don't want to see my bones rust My skin turn to dust And change from what I am now Follow the path where the trees lead the road And the tombs are made of stone Three bearded men worship within a church arrayed in gold We can see with our eyes And question our lives And still not know were we go If you're sure where you are Well that's good so far But we only know what we know Don't want to grow much older now I want to feel the sun, sun shine down Don't want to see my bones rust My skin turn to dust And change from what I am now The child in the womb Was conceived in the wood Upon this very ground My hopes are made clear A life without fear And respect for his fellow man I'll try to be strong When I lead him along The path that has been planned But I'm still not sure Of where I'll be gone When I leave this land Don't want to grow much older now I want to feel the sun, sun shine down Don't want to see my bones rust My skin turn to dust And change from what I am now