Late at night I get thinking, no matter how much I've been drinking those terrible thoughts come back to me. I feel sorry for anyone who ever knew me. The past is a terrible thing.
Memory must serve its function, locking you away in its dungeon. To everyone that I ever met, I've something that I regret. The past is a terrible thing. Don't let it close your eyes.
You can try to un-make it, but there's no way to ever change it. The truth is, I'm living in terror and hating myself more than ever. The past is a terrible thing.
One day you'll find out I'm dead. Is that a good day for you? And all the things I should have said died with me, too. Is that OK?
Don't let it close your eyes.