Playing back the past of a journey long gone
Can’t help to think about the persistent thought
What if
What could we do?
Eight summers that time must erode
Eight winters that chronologically spoke
To a mind that was broken then
Withering now
Ever again
The mantra of a madman
The cloth
I cling to like a child, and
I know it’s painful to see
Never to win
The beckon of reality
The feel
Of the cold concrete
With the hope of someday breaking free
I know that you're looking at me through angry eyes
That every word I tell you is just a lie
What I did was wrong, I knew it wasn't right
But if you let me explain, we can have our forever again
The mantra of a madman
The cloth
I cling to like a child, and
The thought I know isn’t coming back
Never to win
Never will we be
Together like I hoped to be
Now I just hope to break free