Sometimes when I am in the past,
I can see the things that were meant to be.
A shrewd and subtle foreboding persists there, collecting dust.
We all played our parts in it,
made sacrifices and surrendered endlessly to it.
Greedy for attention and simple recognition of
how special we really were.
Everyone watching and waiting then,
learning how to survive.
Slaves to ambition,
slinging drinks and talking shit.
We were deep in hope then,
tremendously alive.
snip
