Who's to say where the wind will take you?

...I'm not afraid to die, I'm more afraid to live...and when I'm flat on my back...I hope to feel like I did...Who's to know when the time has come around?...Who's to say where the wind will take you?

Afraid to live rather than to die... maybe because there's nothing like going to hell and coming back...or just maybe because touring up in heaven once and then pulled right down...

But what does it take for one to go back... to that moment of ecstasy of pleasure in life... like when young: it seemed so fine... one would run around and life would be calm, yet so it cannot be compared to real pleasure of one self.

so what does it take... to go back to that day?