A man stands in a crowd
Holding a box of regrets
Too many times he has failed
Too many times of looking for a way out
And in this box it holds his past
The chances he could never seem to take
The times that would have brought him joy
If it weren’t for too many mistakes.
But the past is the past and it can’t be changed
And the laughter and joy can no longer replace
The feeling of misery he holds deep inside
So he closes his eyes and whispers his last goodbye.
