Sitting here with a smoke in my hand
Watching the past creep up beside me
It sits next to me and whispers in my ears
About days gone by, about moments dancing away
I hear its whispers and try to maintain
An air of dignity while the child in me screams
It wants the days of old back, it wants them to stay
But there is nothing I can do to comfort this little soul
Because turning back time was not taught while turning old
And so I think what is the point of all of this,
Why are we toiling away while lusting after bliss?
But the ghost of hope doesn't let me fall
It sings a song that just simply enthralls
And so I smoke and smoke while the time flies by
Waiting for the days when the past has no power
The day when the past cannot drag me away
Towards chasms of despair, towards pits mountains deep.