You could of been a hero, but you had no reason to be.
You could of betrayed, but you had no chance to betray.
You look back, but what can you change?
Where are you, and who are you with?
You watched as your friends, turned to machines.
Wrote it of as the fate of your generation.
You can escape, and that is your cross.
How can you constrain that desire to leave?
This motive becomes somewhat out of key.
Just bad luck: no-one stopped you in time.
You could of died, if you knew what to die for.
You want to wake up, but this isn't a dream.
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