Of all the things we’ve said and done, I didn’t think that this would be one.
The clinging vines along the house: I pulled them right up from the ground. No harm in keeping them around Except that they will slowly starve me out.
I’m gone like a ghost with all my armor still on, Gone to the shelter of a happier haunt.
Of all the things we’ve said and done, I didn’t think that this would be one. The plants are dead under the sun, From fear or love or neither one.
I’m gone like a ghost with all my armor still on, Gone to the shelter of a happier haunt. I’ll be gone like a ghost with all my armor still on. Don’t you know that I’ll be happier to run?