I used to march past the days,
Now the days march past me.
I used to shape and mold the clay,
Strange,
- How the clay mold’s shaped like me.
There used to be a song about me,
Now I’m the only one who sings it.
Last April’s trap was set for me,
Strange,
- How I’m the one who springs it.
I used to be less lonely then,
But now the world’s too crowded.
I won’t see Sun in the rain again,
Strange,
-Now the summer’s clouded.
I used to dream of things to come,
Of all the words yet to be said.
Now I only dream of what’s been done,
Strange,
- How waking makes sleep dead.
I used to live a happy life,
You can measure it in tears.
If you can still weep you know not strife,
Strange,
- Now my eyes are clear.
I used to fill the air with sound,
All the while saying nothing.
Silence now seems more profound,
Strange,
- I’ve had enough of bluffing.
I used to look at Stars above,
And wonder on their purpose.
A dot of light: not hope or love.
Strange,
- How blessings turn to curses.
I used to live inside a book,
Perhaps too much, I feel.
The book inside me’s been unhooked,
Strange,
- What truth fantasy reveals.
I used to have an open heart,
Poorly partnered with closed mind,
What’s left open soon falls out and apart,
Strange,
- Their position reversed now, I find.
I used to love a fiery girl.
I know that love was true.
Now I chase the past in a broken world.
How Strange,
-To say adieu.