some ghosts just won't stay buried,
and they're the reason you scream yourself awake
at two in the morning
and then cry, cry, cry until it's five
and you have to get ready for school.
and some ghosts just won't quit haunting;
they are loud and make your thoughts even louder.
and with a hoarse voice and rough throat
you whisper strangled words into the dark,
hiding behind the headlights because
nobody can see you if they've been blinded.
you're pulling razor-sharp turns
with the pedal to the floor
trying to escape this ghost town;
you forgot that these thoughts
can follow you anywhere.