How are we meant to see a future?
With the past standing in the way
How am I meant to change?
When I distrust everyone in every way
How can we see the sun?
When the storms blinds our eyes
How can we see heaven?
With these dark clouds covering the skies.
And you keep the past in your pocket
Wearing a piece inside of a locket
And you bring it out as a constant reminder
Euthanasia Would be kinder.
Every memory is like a stab in the heart
The past just strolls in and rips the future apart.
It's not history repeating. It's history future-eating.
