Another greyscale morning with the small town walls closing in And as the time ticks by in the same old places the posters weather and fade like the glimmer of hope in your eye Another chance to tear down this prison you've built for yourself

Or let the past consume the best parts about you growing bitter and sad while the whole world passes you by

Walk with your ghosts

Where are the good old days

They're right in front of your fucking face

Where are the good old days

How about you pull your fucking weight