I've been here before:
so down, so low.
I’ve been here before:
like the deepest caves of the mountain sides,
like the lonely candle
in the darkest corner of the night.
I've walked these roads,
I made these roads;
I live alive in the past.
I've walked these memories before;
I've been here before
and every day I wonder why,
Why am I here?
Why do I sacrifice a normal day
to relieve the past?

And each day I relieve,
I step back to say
to myself,
"Go back,"
live today.
These roads are only
stones on the road of misery,
and while I skip to the
beat of the street
I see a stone and pick it up,
wondering where I should
have been.
Like the clouds
I disappear when it gets too
gloomy for me to comprehend.

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