The future of the past is always dim.
The past we recollect is always bright.
The present may be flawed but still we cling
To it. As though we’re fighting for our life.
The 1955 in which we find
Ourselves is picture perfect and we must
Do everything we can to re-align
The faces that we think created us.
The resurrection of a perfect past.
The preservation of a perfect real.
The destination of a swerving car,
With teenage freedom reeling at the wheel.
As Marty speeds away from now to then
We hope he finds a way to live, again.