Rewriting Memory
Maybe the voice of reason I heard in those days
Was my own in the future traveling back in time
And maybe the memory now in the present
Are the restless trolls I once tried to keep in line
But something sounds so much clearer and different
As if the years fine-tuned the profound resonance
Everything now has more definition and meaning
In understanding the facts and hard evidence
The truth is…without a sense of purpose or drive
A moral compass can only point but not steer
And when the ship is being pulled in all directions
It’s easy to get lost even when skies are clear
The echo answers differently this time around
Call it conscience, spirit, or whatever you like
But if the ghosts come back to whisper and hang out
Just ask them to speak clearly into the mic…
The little shits will shy away and hide in the night
