Shaving

I've been dragging razor blades over my face for about ten years straight,

From the week I turned thirteen

Well, yesterday I turned twenty-three

Dad used to joke that he could shave with a knife

I've never seen a cut on his face in all of my life

I hope my skin thickens into the kind of man I want to be

You're numb?

Yeah, sure, I've been numb

It's when you have so many choices, you end up choosing none

And you're bored, I think I know the sort

As long as you don't end up there as your first resort

One time a drunk news presenter from RTE,

took the time out of her busy night to explain to me,

that boredom is a pretty recent term and forty years ago,

no one used the word

And there is so much more than this,

some people survive by the skin of their wrist.

And I had to let you know, Oh-woah-ohh

And I saw what was basically a child propped up on stage

He proceeded to say nothing in the loudest way

I lock my jaw so tight, point my eyes at the ground, in a futile effort to repel the sound

As my mind starts to wander away, it calls back just to ask me "Was I ever this way?"

The chords seem so familiar, although his speech is slurred

I see we've the same shaving lines as he utters the words:

There is so much more than this,

Some people survive by the skin of their wrist

And I had to let you know, Oh-woah-ohh

There is so much more than this,

People survive by the skin of their wrist

And I had to let you know, Oh-woah-ohh

And things won't be the same again

At 6 A.M.

Eight years ago, I was lying in the middle of the Old Bawn Road, singing:

"I don't care if any cars come, I won't rise before the sun"

At 6 A.M.

Eight years ago, I was lying in the middle of the Old Bawn Road, singing:

"I don't care if any cars come, I won't rise before the sun."