Ghostwriter

Dying of thirst Could i still be alive or worse Where was i last Parked on the street when a shadow was cast Taking me out, when a struggle ensued What was that hole in my shirt And the blood that spilled to the floor Like a dead man's The focus is blurred And the voice off camera is heard And the lighting's to blame Tell the assistant director the same Pulling away to a final dissolve Soundtrack provides a lush bed of strings Before the screen fades to black And the credits rise above Like the soul of a dead man Wandering on Like a dead man Wandering on