| On your final day
|
| Did you think of me?
|
| And did I get the benefit
|
| The benefit of the doubt?
|
| On my dying day, I will change my ways
|
| Yeah, I’ll stop all this wandering around, dear
|
| I will stop all this wandering around
|
| I heard you were gone, heard that you’d left
|
| Heard that getting some sleep would suit me
|
| That I’m no more to grieve for you
|
| But it’s easier said than done, I say
|
| 'cause your god damn ghost 'll make me run all day
|
| And I can’t keep away from you
|
| And there’s no more, more than calling on you
|
| 'cause those old numbers, they don’t reach that place that you were going
|
| And you never left no new ones
|
| And there’s no more, more than asking about you
|
| 'cause the new key don’t travel that same old way
|
| Since you have moved along
|
| When the hair stands up on the back of my neck
|
| It’s your god damn ghost and that’s what I suspect
|
| And I can’t keep away from you
|
| I’ve known your phantom ways, you can walk through walls
|
| And see all the little things that I do wrong
|
| No, I can’t keep away from you
|
| Did I get the benefit
|
| The benefit of the doubt?
|
| I’m more to grieve for you
|
| I can’t keep away from you
|
| No, I’m no more to grieve for you |