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.