people talk about the past like its still living
an annoying neighbor who insists on visiting
we go to the graves of our own mortal history
but instead of soil and stone
we're confronted by Zombies
Zombies of hurt, Zombies of pain
the ever living conundrum
of the past, as the walking dead

People live in the past like they've split the atom
a world within a world
a freedom they can't fathom
we go to the homes we left at sixteen
but instead of new occupance
we're alone with the Zombies -
Zombies of failure, Zombies of death
the ever living conundrum
of the pasts rotting flesh

People review the past and talk like its still news
yet its just a flicker of the mind the remnants of a fuse
we look over the lines like editors we read
in the hindsight we searth for truth
yet all we find are Zombies -
Zombies of hate, Zombies of love
the ever decaying conundrum
to the pasts resemblance to now.