I never believed in ghosts until I was one,
and I never believed in life until I started having fun,
just wasting away myself and everybody else around,
feeding into things that will deflect all light and sound,
but underground I'd stay until my consciousness takes
control of apparitions where my body fakes
to exist again, when "there's no real
reason for reflection"
I say to myself once again,
as I have many times in life,
this is just what it is,
and I'll be fine,
nothing will ever change.
All our beings will remain
as the beings that they've been.
My lovers are craving the things I've been giving,
Not just the caressing,
but also, my blessing
to snort these crushed up things,
and lead their own minds rings
of sunshine and destruction,
the last resurrection
of Christ will be at hand
in the dreams of some in this land
but not me, I'm becoming the ghost of my past.
It's on full blast;
the relentless sounds of a lifetime spent wasting away,
and just searching for the sun every day,
but it won't come out for us,
so I'm catching this spirit of a bus,
and I'll be gone, I won't think of the past,
I'll just wander around, and think "which day will be my last?"
and "What things are there to atone for?"
and "where the fuck is the exit door?"
I'm leaving all the ghosts of my past,
to create some new skeletons, we'll all have a blast.