Every night when I dream,
When I walk down the street alone or not,
you could be just anywhere.
I see a stranger’s face,
they morph into your shape.
I flinch and cry, scream out ‘why’,
but simply can’t escape.
I keep busy all day long,
Make lists and only survive.
But after your passing I suffice to say,
I limp on, barely alive.
Wish I was in some Vintage Twilight Zone,
where I could call your office line,
hear your voice from the other side.
But this aint TV, no-no,
reality’s a crueler design.
Sometimes I sniff your scent,
in a crowded room.
Sometimes I shiver cause you left me,
all alone and all too soon.
Mom hides in her bathroom now
With Republican radio.
Her pupils are black saucers,
She don’t know which way to go.
People say you live within me now,
I only sorta’ get what they mean.
Mostly I nod, try to console,
be a ‘weeping shoulder’ aloof & serene.
But when the day is ended,
my walls come crashing down.
I sleep in fits, wake with tearstained eyes,
‘cause I so badly need you around.
There’s this freaky little Club,
You made me a card carrying member,
when you were set down.
We don’t got no badge.
We don’t truck with novices.
We know no wrong.
But if you lose a loved one,
we catch you,
then you belong.
to the Haunted.
To The Haunted…
-All Lyrics by Bret L Thompson, ASCAP. © Keep Your Filthy Mitts from my Publishing Co.