Looking back through 

the window in the door that now has closed,

the looking glass that loss has tinted rose,

at the secrets of the path we never chose.


We lose ourselves there 

as we fall into the arms of the unseen,

of all that never was but should have been,

beyond the day that woke us from the dream.


And it's a little late to speculate on what we could have done.

It's a little late to overstate the obvious. 

We considered every move we made,

we did what we thought best 

So release the fist of dirt into the grave,

and lay the ghost to rest


Let it go with

the hurt of all the promises unkept,

the pride behind apologies unsaid,

and the tragedy of hope they left for dead.


Because it's as fruitless 

as the tears in the sour milk we spilt

on the ruins of the tower that we built

and the silence and the loneliness of guilt.


And it's a little late to speculate on what you could have done

and so easy now to overstate the obvious.

we considered every move we made

we did what we thought best.

So throw down your fist of dirt into the grave

and lay the ghost to rest.


This one's over

No phoenix from these ashes will arise

so let the tears upon the lashes of your eyes

fall to the desert ground and bring new life.


Walk away now

I'm not saying that we can or should forget

Just don't cloud your every sunrise with regret

The curtain hasn't fallen on us yet

The curtain hasn't fallen on us yet

The curtain hasn't fallen on us yet