What could have been: Mind and heart plagued by segregation Just another child surrounded by impatient souls, they would stop and stare at another limb left, greatly impaired At the age of young, dissapointment meant no harm But came to be remembered as burnmarks on his arms In years to come these scars will darken ; ripe with intoxication No matter what has been said, it is too late for reparations Followed by the fear of growing up, to come to terms with what must be; Chasing me like a bird does the worm Flailing, crying, screaming bloody murder "Oh god, help me now!" The substance of my denial; Someone, please, help me find my way out! Now, when all is said and done, and my days are long There's still time left to right all that I have wronged But not without your hand clutching mine As it is impossible for a man alone, corrupted, to unwind Now that all is said and done, my days are coming to an end And I look back onto the days, in which I would fend for all that could have been I look back to the days, in which I would fend for what could have been