Why do I keep looking back
thinking that small town
that I once ruled
actually meant something?
Knowing those people who were so real to me;
these people I once called my friends
are only statues of what they lay claim to be.
Why is it that I feel
it's so important to focus
on a place I no longer belong,
when there's an entire
world out there to welcome
me and my mentality?
So the more I'm tempted to look back,
the more I feel my body turn to stone,
and the more I see that moving on
must be where I belong.