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 mountains

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 mountains

After the death of Methuselah
The orange clouds will grow
Bad dreams, full of lightning
The sea has gone in the forest
Carrying off the snakes and 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