A ghost can’t rest until its name is spoken for the very last time
Blue circles holding up the walls, ivy growing down the chalk lines
The heart will have its catacombs
Bones laid under marble stones
Secrets spoken in the half-light
Scan the spirit radio
We talk until it’s time to go
Then bid them rest until the next time

These winter days the veil thins 'til I can almost touch the ether
The wind finds comfort in the space between the windows and the heater
Radiator whistle low
Sing those songs from long ago
I need a friend until the morning
Temperature will stall and dive
Half asleep but still alive
Til April hangs the trees with her adorning

The old straight track, the space between
That runs from here to Aberdeen
Lines that glow like copper wire
Spirits dance like Elmo’s fire
Finding patterns, ear kept low
To static on the radio
Stories from another time
Reaching from your heart to mine

A man can’t die until his name is spoken for the very last time
Blue circle holding up the walls the ivy growing down the ley lines
Eighteen-hundred forty four
A poet was then was no more
A love sneaks up and then it hits you
Nineteen-hundred forty one
One eye closed and one eye gone
You never hear the one that gets you