The days to come are a mirror of what is past

I'm vacillating back and forth
Can't seem to find a way through the eye of the needle
First it's off the ceiling then into the fire that lives beneath the ground
Tell you the truth: the ceiling's 4 feet high
I don't know why

I'm undulating up and down
Don't know when I'll get to take these decorations down
One day you move in and all your happiest days are ahead of you
The next they're looming like soul-stealing shadows all in a row
In front of you.