I found a time machine, a day or two ago

like it had been misplaced, just sitting there, right on my lawn

and it looked a little rusty, but I sat at the controls

and I bolted shut the door, took a breath, and turned it on

if anyone should see me, I wouldn't know what they would say

as I entered in a year and then a month and then a day

 

I found a time machine with only room for one

a hundred knobs and buttons, all in platinum and chrome

I'd never been much of an argonaut, 

so I'd look at what I'd done

learn anything I could, then turn around and go back home

so I saw what we'd created, saw it suddenly go cold

and I watched our dying embers, all the lies we both had told

 

I could have done it better

I could have seen it clearer

I could've kept from losing you

 

I found a time machine and saw what could've been

a happy end dismantled by my whispered jealousy

but time moves only forward, so I'll hold close what I've seen

and from here on out I'll never let fear get the best of me

and I'm content with my new moral, and I won't go back again

can't help but wonder what would happen 

had I known what I know then