It's always this year's gift

Is it ever what I wanted?

Was I unhappy living in the past?

Has my growth been that stunted?

When to be ashamed is to be defined

And all this self awareness, the blind led by the blind

An empty conscience is sensitivity

I have to pretend I'm overcome with humility

It always comes on time

Not a second before the instant

But this year I think I'd rather be a relic

Than part of the present