Ghosts

Ghosts, in the dark of night
Ghosts, in the moonlight
Ghosts, in the shadows of my mind
Ghosts, in the Polaroids from younger times

All these visions feel just like
A dream where the seams have frayed

Ghosts, waiting for the break of dawn
Ghosts, still afraid of moving on
Ghosts, in the chains I'm dragging from my past
Ghosts, in the compass when I read my maps

And all these visions feel just like
A dream where the seams have frayed
Like an ocean spilling over in the wake

May I burn this book to ashes and fill the sky with sage
Must the stories fall to ruins before I turn the page
May I throw it in the fire with all the fear and shame
So translucent slates and windows are all that remain

All these visions feel just like a dream
Where the seams have frayed
Like an ocean spilling over in the wake

Is this a dream
Have all the seams frayed
Like an ocean spilling over in the wake

Ghosts
Ghosts
Ghosts