Inadequate hands, inadequate means, inadequate little go-betweens, so what?   You grovel and grope - so what?   And cling to the hope, and so you keep building, building, building   with the toothpicks and the glue.   But buildings can fall - you haven't learned.      In tempera and egg and papier mache, the temperament is led astray, so what?   You step to the floor - so what?   And stumble once more, and so you keep trying, trying, trying   to be bored and bitter too.   And someday you will - but you haven't learned.      Oh, I love you best at the awkward age.   You know I love you best at the awkward age.      Every time I call you've found a new way, new way to commit suicide unsuccessfully.   Impatiently you grab at any throughway, throughway   The future fills you head, you poke it till it's dead,   and smile a silly pardon me.      Oh, I love you best at the awkward age.   You know I love you best at the awkward age.