We live our lives like the guitar break in "Bang yer head", beautiful and melodic and ready to explode. And [bad word]  we looked good, our hair messed just right and our hearts were invincible while we sang songs about love and regret, distance and loss, heartache and failure. And I still hear angels, but you are long gone. Now they sing a funeral song telling of all I did wrong. And I just want to go back to when we didn't have to drink ourselves to sleep, back to when our dreams didn't weigh us down, back to when each day didn't feel like something we just survived.