They say one's eyes become the windows of the soul
And they say the past will follow you wherever you may go
Sometimes you gotta run away, forget the past and take control
Or you'll never find peace of mind, or the perfect place to grow
You see your whole world is a stage, and your whole life is a show
Gotta find a way to bottle all that rage, deep inside where no one knows
Friend or foe, I suppose the wind blows cold when you standin outside and you lookin in froze
And your soul never felt so low as you watch the door close on the path you choose.