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.

I sit here with my cigarette burning before me,
Withering away like the days that are slacking by,
As I feel a sense of foreboding swell inside of me,
With nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.

Let Me Tell You a Story
In Which There Is No Glory
There's Only Lust and Greed
Hidden Inside a Sheet of Creed
For Once There Was a Boy
Who Had Dreams of Glory
Oh If Only He Had Not Been That Sorry
For He Dreamed, But With An Old Maid's Effort
Too Strong To Go Away, Too Weak To Stay
So He Was Stuck In His Dreams
But Could Not Make Them Seem
Passing Through The Ways, Forever Alone
But Inside Him There Was A Hope
'O I Will Certainly Achieve My Goals!'
For What Is Heaven For, Except The Sating Of The Fools
Fools Who Do Not Realize
That Their Real Home Is In the Depths Of Doom