Ghosts

I saw you on the street today

I could’ve stopped but I turned away

And maybe it wasn’t even you.

The sun was bright, the air was clear

And suddenly, you were there

But maybe it wasn’t even you.

All the things locked in my head

They clatter and they clang to wake the dead

They tumble and they grumble and they swear and they spit

And I’ve just about had enough of it.

Last night I dreamt the house set fire

While you were singing in a choir

But maybe it wasn’t even you

I caught a glimpse as I awoke

Of a silver form with a blackened rope

And maybe it wasn’t even you.

All the things locked in my head

They clatter and they clang to wake the dead

They tumble and they grumble and they swear and they spit

And I’ve just about had enough of it.

Ghosts belong in ruined towers

Broken houses and darkening woods

All these things have found their place

A home in my heart and they’re here for good.

I whistle as I walk along

I heard you singing our old song

But maybe it wasn’t even you

Sometimes I wish that you were here

Sometimes I wish you’d disappear

But maybe it isn’t even you.

All the things locked in my head

They clatter and they clang to wake the dead

They tumble and they grumble and they swear and they spit

And I’ve just about had enough of it.

Ghost belong in ruined towers

Broken houses where the living bled

All these things have found their place

But some of my ghosts aren’t even dead.

---