Follow me a sea of silhouettes by your mother and your fathers bed your father grins as he hears what you said to me in the park on the blanket
Home is where I call the ghost my own that haunts the basement where I sleep alone its seen the burns on my skin showing bones and asks me why I still sleep with my phone
Wandering back from campus half asleep across the bridge leading to your keep every minute is a memory you don't exist you're just a ghost to me