I look at my old pictures
And they’re like ghosts of me
I’m just a shadow of the gypsy
That I used to be
Blue room with flowered curtains
Been gone for a long time
To a city full of strangers
Feeling awkward all the time

There was a simple comfort
Knowing where you’d be and when
Saying only who you are now
Not what you could have been
Somehow it all escaped me
The realization chimes
I’ll be hanging the same curtains
In rented rooms for shorter times

Everyone saw me as the strong one
Who was never satisfied
And there is some things
That I would have loved more then
Had I stopped and tried

I’m looking at old papers
And the shallow victories
They become dusty pages
In yearbook histories
And it meant so much then
It doesn’t mean a goddamn thing
I feel none of the bravado
Those victories used to bring.

I was never really the strong one
And I am never satisfied
I’ve said so many things
That you thought were so personal
But I don’t even know that much
About my own life
Sometimes I really don’t know much
About my own life.