I may have broken something inside of me,
All the happy things that where,
Are now just memories.
The days they pass all to fast,
No time to sit and mend,
So the crack in glass will shatter that which was a whole,
And i feel their splinters deep within my soul.
Perhaps ill take the scattered things,
To make a new mosaic of me,
Maybe rearranging things will make a man out of me,
And sometimes ill dream of who i used to be.