• There's a ghost of my past,
    Hanging up in my closet.
    It wishes I'd stop reaching past,
    And pick out what I don't want to remember.
    Put on the things I try to forget,
    And go back to the old days.

    There's a ghost of my past,
    Sitting on my window sill.
    It wishes I'd look at him,
    Instead of looking ahead.
    Face the things I tried to leave behind,
    And go back to the old days.

    There's a ghost of my past,
    Standing beside me in the mirror.
    It wishes I'd stop covering up,
    And let my true colors shine.
    Wash away all the fake,
    And go back to the old days.

    There's a ghost of our pasts,
    Hiding underneath our noses.
    We all know it's time to break free.
    We all know it's time to be heard.