The Ghosts

The ghosts of your past
Fall in beside you
As you walk down the strand
And into the square
Somebody calls you
You ignore the question
It’s the girl in the red dress
You murdered in spring
Turning the page
For the ghosts of tomorrow
The friendless and weak
Leave their blood on your hands
Burning with rage
Swimming in sorrow
You won’t be alone
For your ghosts will be there
Look down from a great height
At the figure below you
Then into the distance
Of a world unaware
Touching the leg
Where the flesh and the bone meet
Folding the skin
Combing the hair
Turning the page
For the ghosts of tomorrow
The friendless and weak
Leave their blood on your hands
Burning with rage
Swimming in sorrow
You won’t be alone
For your ghosts will be there
You won’t leave alone
For your ghosts will be there