Ghost Songtext
von Joanne Robertson

Out on the board, you let the plane
Poke down a sewer trap
Vines, not a bird, dying
True type, you stand still
Shoo, trap, you stand still in the noon
As the windows that glow in your toast
To get halfway out of sleep


Cold days
Play on the phone
Try get to
What keeps you close
Pray I do all
To get what I can share
Of the people that don′t make it there
You ride a cold bed, lacking place
I don't serve this anymore, anymore

Teeth
Your plaque
To grow
I got

Prettiest thing
Shame you had to leave
Before the board trade past things
That you press out
Of what you want to speak