Always assumed to be the villain,
Lingering in the shadows of a crooked path.
Am I misunderstood? Or is it just my destiny—
To be the star of my own one-man show? Isn’t it funny?

The irony is, promises were made.
Friendships did indeed fade.
But I am here, still at the restaurant,
Sitting in the corner I haunt.

A ghost of Christmas past,
Watching time slip through the cracks.
Thinking of the roads I never took,
And the weight of the past on my back.

Is redemption just a wishful dream?
Or a fate already cast?
I sit at the restaurant and I wonder-
When The Prophecy changes at last.