Ghosts

Ghosts in the morning, ghosts in the noon Ghosts in the mirror staring back at you Ghosts in your bedroom tea, ghosts in your bath Ghosts in the rickety rackety pick-up toolshed Ghosts are sublime, anytime There are ghosts uncertain, in gladuous handbags Ghosts in disposable, dismal dispositions Ghosts, as a matter of fact Ghosts, ghosts Fiction or remote crawldaddies? Picture this, a laughter shy Of insurmountable intent Visions are a blight, hellbent On sunny everafters flickering In earth-toned armaments and Wicker rockers by the flames That warm the hearth Ghosts! Ghosts in a wild, gnarley beard Ghosts in a cobwebbed attic alibi Ghosts in the cosmic warp of creation Ghosts are the intrigue of the nation Ghosts! Ghosts of lost civilizations Come setting up cantina mirages in the midnight fog Decieve and repeal the landscape indescrimantly Breathe and moan eirrie chants between vast canyon walls Ghosts Ghosts, Ghosts Ghosts reveal the bread and butter thrust Upon stagnant air and crumbled Ghosts cause fatigue, ghosts cause pain Ghosts can drive mortals insane Ghosts are uncanny, ghosts are cruel Ghosts'll drown friends in the swimming pool Ghost's can redeem, ghosts can refrain Ghosts'll make mountains out of the rain Ghost'll swell panic, kill adventure and reign Over the cobwebs up in the attic Extinguishing the freshness of dew Embellishing much deeper hues Administering junky blues and delusions Devisions Ghosts are the seasons Ghosts are the earth Ghosts voice their fury up in a burst Ghosts blow amo, ghosts fill their cups And drink to the vacancy in all of us.