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I've a theory of ghosts and i'm a monster to girls |
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I stick in their heart like a rusty spur |
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But i've a theory of ghosts: |
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They're alive and we're all dead; |
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That they're trying to tell us is that it's this way around |
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And i've a theory of girls |
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They always seem to leave in the spring |
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As if they know that it hurts more |
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To carry a heartbreak through the summer |
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In the calender storm, i circled a day and tried to hold on |
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And in the last powercut, |
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I whispered her name 'til the lights came on |
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Smoked my indian pipe |
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Listened to the static, the snow on the wire |
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Smoked my indian pipe |
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Listened to the static, the snow on the wire |
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I have one photograph that captures her smile |
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But i don't have a tape of her laugh |
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Watercolors can't help me |
