There's little peepers in my brain
And they see me
Everyday in and out
I try to control what they might see

I try to tell them,
"you're not real,
the past is dead,
Don't tell me how to feel"

I wish I could escape,
be free
from my own watchers
whose job is to watch me

Set me free,
      You don't exist
The past is dead
      And I quit.