Matt Elliott Something About Ghosts
I'm as lonely as a ghost as I sit down to write these
notes
To you and your intended, spring is the worst time for
most
Who've never reached the boundaries
Or heard the notes as they were sung
I believe this lonely ghost was forced to wander on until
By chance or fate was summoned
To call on you a service that he knew wouldn't be
answered
Less repaid with lust
But still your faded shadow was forced to look upon
Sights not even a ghost should have to see
And as he slumps so listed, he cannot bear to watch
And yet he cannot turn his gaze away and flee
This poor ghost can only howl, although his howls cannot
be heard
His cries will go unheeded
No one will ever read his words
And though he cannot weep, he sheds his tears through me
