Everyone tells me it's nice to have me back
I can't tell that I'm sure where I'm at
Everything seems the same
Yet, I can tell that everything has changed

What's left of me
What's left of me
What's left is the souvenir
Of my trip

I came back to this world with slightly seared lobes
And a crispy sensation that just won't let me go
I stood and watched the fabric of time get ripped
So I stepped on through and felt the slightest slip

What's left of me
What's left of me
What's left is the souvenir
Of my trip

What's left of me
What's left of me
What's left is the souvenir
Of my trip