If the end is the beginning,
and the beginning is the end,
then I was dead before I ever breathed.
Now I gotta live this all again.
I've been stuck in limbo, trapped in purgatory,
had some opportunities... had... stupid me.
When I shut the window, the pain latched permanently,
but, winds of change can break glass, personally.
I can't squeeze my way free of this frame of mind. No one's blame but mine.
Stacks of shattered, stained clean slates combine, stabilized.
It's a race to find the wasted time I keep takin' to save face and unwind.
I had to watch this clock tick from analog to digital,
but I thought quick, and often, tried to plan it all traditional.
Shocked that I lost potential yet still amped up to get it through
my head, like a cannonball that hits the truth, but missed it too,
I ended up in this present rut, standin on my principles.
Handin' off these ritual actions was miniscule
compared to the fact I'm the last character in this parable.
I've shared my half, relapsed, stared into the terrible,
but where I'm at now is passed bein' barely even bearable.
I don't care about miracles, wouldn't dare to rely on clerical
errors, I need concrete proof to see what's fair to most.
Screw smellin' the roses, I'd rather eat the marigolds.
Been in the dog house, tryin' to get my thoughts out the fog clouds,
brought down to earth, caught ground and burned,
livin' the big city life in a small town concerned.
If this is the shit we find when false doubts converge,
then I'm sick of what's been minimized and crossed out to purge.
If the end was the beginning,
and the beginning was the end,
then I am dead before I ever breathe.
Now I'm gonna live this all again.