Those nights filled with regrets,
All just staged sets.
Where I rewrite the endings,
To create some new beginnings.

Attempt to rework or change,
Those memories already out of range.
Those paths could have been ventured,
Now they're old and fake as a pair of dentures.

I want them to play out differently in my mind,
Doesn't matter how many times I press rewind.
Those opportunities have been surpassed and are now a sutcher,
Can only take it in stride and look on into the future.