I looked in my own future,
and didn’t see you there; 
I didn’t put you there, 
and took every opportunity to leave;
I am that way.

I’m content with my present, 
a present I’ve created; 
I don’t love it, 
and I believe I deserve better than it; 
I can’t see very well for I manage and compensate, 
a future with pieces of my present makes me ever irate.

A present where I gift away everything,
knowing I’ll keep getting; 
A gift I’ve used against everyone, 
taking from them pieces for my stringing;
What am to do with these gifts, 
am I not to play? 
I can’t recall not teaching myself, 
not once was I taught to play; 
Oh how do I remember my fathers and mothers of yesterday.

I remember memories fondly, 
I do very much by choice;
Many so differently,
Like I never myself, saw a star or was;
Many others where not who there are,
So different they are;
I must have dreamt it all,
I just choose never to fall;
Every day was a mountain, 
Today I love walking.

So what of my tomorrows?
With my nightmares and sorrows,
And my dreamy way, 
of thinking of a past un-lived;
I was always loved, 
I didn’t live much horrow.

I figure I’d love to tell some my stories,
Wife and children will do;
I wish to meet more love,
Much more than I anyone is due;
I’ll dress my skeletons, 
parade for a world to see;
So I won’t have to worry of closets,
For It may all be but a dream to me.