What Ghosts are you still chasing?
On this road to hell paved with discontent.
Turning our backs on the past doesn’t mean it was never meant.
Are you waving or,
Holding your hand up against the glare of that light at the end of the tunnel?
Wishing, are you dreaming of erasing everything that makes you,
Wishing, doesn’t make it so, and the Rose-tinted glasses are no longer see-through. More like blinkers.
The world is only as dirty and you think.
Another wrong will never make a right so,
One foot in front of the other, Girls, boots on, tits up, smile like you mean it.
You can sleep when you’re dead.