Ginger

Certain kinds of nights, find me swimming alone, inside my bed. Certain kinds of songs leave me without a sound without a trace. Now I know, something aint right inside of her Certain kinds of sounds find me slippin' away. Driftin away. Certain kinds of light, find me sfalling into her summer dress Now I know, something aint right inside of her. It's not out of respect, the door is closed but the walls still haunt me. Still haunt me.