I still wonder
About the past.
I'm sure most of us do.
Quite cliche of my like to say,
I still wonder
About the past.  

Conflicted, knowing friends won't change.
Jaded by relationships,
As I watch them all fade.
Calmed by smoke, more than fire.
Hard to find inspiration,
Out of things that won't transpire.  

Although the glass is half empty
(sometimes half full),
Why has no one questioned,
Who made a glass so dull?
Because glass cups never were,
Before man made it so.

Where did all that water come from?
Where will it all go?
Like memories that make up life
Paint lemons shades of bold.