maybe just a dead sign
speaking to my eyes shaking i can think of
a piece of broken fifth hand
reaching to my head falling i can think of
closing my eyes tight
i can hear the sounds of my fellows
they are sounding so cold...

"maybe just a ghost"
you say and forget about it
i stopped talking
then a piece of cracked tooth
talking to my nail stinging
i can snatch out

cold, lost parts
they are stinging me so cold
i know they live in the past

dont stick it, kick it out. Shut Down!
dont stick it, pick it out. Shut Down!
dont take it, get it back
i tried to kill the dead ghost - shoot!
but i got a miss shot
dont stick it, kick it out. Shut Down!
dont stick it, pick it out. Shut Down!
dont take it, get it back
i tried to shoot them down
they stay in my foot steps
i gave up
and then put the gun down
its maybe just a piece of lost dead past
fallen from the trash can forgettable
creeping trying to find a space to be
kind of a piece of puzzle never been solved
fifty thousands foot steps still going on
no place to be i can think of
closing my eyes tight,
i can feel them
'cause they are my fellows
lived in the past
loved in the past
used in the past
lost in the past
where will they go
in stead of my pride?