I’ve often wished (who hasn’t?) for a chance
to press the rewind button, start again
and choose a different partner for the dance
of fickle youth to play what might have been.
Instead of giving circumstances reign,
I’d tap the hidden track of inner peace
and circumvent the path that leads to pain;
let static fade and harmony increase.
But tempting though it be to theorize
on rearranging compositions past,
each segment is a lesson in disguise
that can’t be altered once the program’s cast.
And focusing on tapes that self-repeat
defines the formula for soul-defeat.