My mirror's laughing at me,
says,
boy,
are you getting old?
There's so much junk in your life,
what you've got,
you don't even know.
Don't take a phone company to tell you lights pay as you go.
I wonder how much of life is set up in utero.
Under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
cold and cold and clear.
Watching too much TV,
I'm an actor in a puppet show.
There's so much stuff in my life,
no room for me to grow.
One day I'm gonna break from my life,
due south down to Mexico.
I'm gonna burn down my house,
it's the only way to let it go.
Under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
it's cold and
cold and clear.
Run your hands across the flanks of a horse,
feel the pulse of blood,
the heat and the force.
It's an anecdote to a life spent on the beat.
That's a beat of concrete,
a beat of machines,
of mobile phones and plasma screens.
How much junk in my life do I really need?
Under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
it's cold and cold and clear.
I'm so cynical,
where I need to play.
I'm so cynical,
find another way.
I'm so cynical,
I can't change.
One drop is lonely,
two drops okay.
Three drops can make us pray,
four drops get carried away.
Under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
under the waterfall,
it's cold and cold and clear.