Ghost

It sucks to be a ghost, it hurts to disappear
Drowning in a sea of newspaper clippings
Screaming white noise, white lightning on the page
A head carved out of glass
And a body of celophane
Will be standing on your head
Breathing fire into your neck
Until your will to live is dead
My invisible friend, not alive and not dead
Whispers sweet secrets
From the books that he's read
My invisible friend, inside of my head
Tells me all the nasty things that you said
No knight in shining armor, not masquerade ball
No shooting relief from an elbow scrape fall
It sucks to be a ghost, it hurts to disppear