We are not them

So little is left in us of who we used to be —
Those pimply;faced, white;shirted kids, so innocent and free.
They watched the sunrise after prom night's final dance,
On a riverbank with sedge and lilies — what a chance.

We watch ourselves from the outside in:
Are we still the same? We ask the wind.
No — we're different, utterly strange.
An echo of the people we once arranged.
We are not them — we are their opposite side.
The mirror cracked, the ghost denied.

Old friends now — they would hardly understand each other at all.
Between them: a canyon of years, a bitter fall.
And your first love — could you even recognize
That tipsy woman selling wild strawberries with tired eyes?

We watch ourselves from the outside in:
Are we still the same? We ask the wind.
No — we're different, utterly strange.
An echo of the people we once arranged.
We are not them — we are their opposite side.
The mirror cracked, the ghost denied.

I flip through yellow photographs — time;broken, torn, and thin.
I feel a bitter regret: I can't warn the boy I've been.
I look into mocking eyes behind thick glasses — that young face.
And I feel a strange joy: I was more honest, cleaner in that place.

We watch ourselves from the outside in:
Are we still the same? We ask the wind.
No — we're different, utterly strange.
An echo of the people we once arranged.
We are not them — we are their opposite side.
The mirror cracked, the ghost denied.

We watch ourselves from the outside in:
Are we still the same? We ask the wind.
No — we're different, utterly strange.
An echo of the people we once arranged.
We are not them — we are their opposite side.
The mirror cracked, the ghost denied.

We are not them.
We are not them.
The mirror cracked.
The ghost denied.

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