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Permahorn
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Ghost at the Feast
I will be here, every time, that you come back home
Follow you in pools of light down the hall to your door
In your dips, my chips, beers and fridge, your salt and my sauce
From bed to chair, past the sofa there, the bare floor you rolled across
From now on I will be just a ghost at the feast
I will be from now on just a ghost at the feast
In the songs you always sing, sing so out of tune
The films you watch in black and white with stories to confuse
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The dance you do on your own when no one else can see
In his eyes, his ears, his mood,
his fears and your hand between your knees.
I will be from now on just a ghost at the feast.
I will be from now on just a ghost at the feast
And the ghost never has to eat.
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