I'm the undefinable water-
from one stream to another- passing back and forth.
Obstacle course is lifey tributary.
Arrival point: my dam obituary.
I am the end of this road-
hoping in hope for going alone.
Listen while I tell you why you
do not make your life about you.
This darkness can't make me come back.
I'm second-best in pasty death.
Look to me for your convincing
when ideas say that you're exempt.
The times in tungsten-light
flicker like the bulb was on my head.
This current won't keep
up the tungsten-light.
But we know how not to care;
those ways've been paved on the path of the past,
and that's why it's called "The Past."
The times in utter darkness
can't make me come back –
I'm second-best in pasty death
and you're first on that path.
It doesn't undo what's already been
'cause you can't take back a damned thing you did.
-and that's why it's called "The Past."
The times in understanding
foster carelessness sometimes.
Our truth has become a lie
and we can't change a thing.
There are factors that weigh in our circumstances.
There's things that change us from what's been done.
-and that's why it's called "The Past."
