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?