Your Ghost - Piano Magic, John Grant

Your ghost, a white candle in this night

Smile broken, though eyes bright as carnival rides

You wander these streets, punch-drunk on the stars

As the lights are stubbed out in the neighborhood bars

Your voice, thin as smoke, barely exits your mouth

There’s blood in your hair and a fire to the south

Your skeleton moves in a waltz with the stairs

And the well of your heart, full of noone who cares

Your words, a white wreath at the cusp of the hill

To mark of the kill, where the blood was spilled

You’re the back of the mirror, you’re the ghost of the tide

And i would die twice, if you stayed tonight

(don't stay tonight)