The Ghost Chaser

This is the house
of my silence
where the hours
watch out
for my rare
moments
of clarity
and purity

I'm waiting for your comeback
to this miserable place
where the ghosts of my past live

I'm waiting for your comeback
and for death and misery
and a deaf and mute famine

This is the home
of my disguise
where the hours
are passing by

I'm waiting for your comeback
for someone to forget
this iron cladded burial place

I'm waiting for your comeback
and for blame and regret
vain illusions and empty shades

This is an house of concrete stone
a peaceful place of calm and joy
a safe and sound harbour of soul
where anybody
will always rest in peace

This is the house of fog and rage
a narrow place of discontent
a dark bleak hole of suffering
where nobody
can rest in peace

I yet await for some comeback
a ghost to put a pillow
with worn out cold hands
over my tired face