The past
Its wish to try to go back and erase the mistakes
But it is already too late for god’s sake
Got memories running like a phone
But with no emojies but emotions
It’s a past, makes me wanna paste it back, but already faced, can’t chase it, can’t race it back.
Tried the rewind button, It didn’t work, no let me play the highlights again call it memory
Because of memory, history is stuck with you, a mystery not solved, now you have all these stories in yo head, running prehistoric.
Your mind is becoming more like a crumble, a stumble, slowly and patiently looking like a tumble.
“Don’t resist” like the police says, you might not want to exist no more, its playing your mind, I insist.
Your mind can’t grind, reminding you of the blind sinner that you were days ago, weeks ago, months ago, and years ago.
Can’t be erased, not as easy as erasing a computer data, your mind is playing you, call it a cheetah.
The past, blast yo mind, with history, triggers your emotions, well spoken
Makes you feel dull, full of cruels in your mind, makes you want to shoot your mind up, that’s suicidal.
It’s a cycle going spiral, your final stage of becoming trapped in your mind
A past, something that makes you review your own life,
And plan for the better future- culture, structure.
But too late, so hate the fate, without the great, state you’re false, create the 1 out of you all!