James Gold Mother Walking The Ghost There's a knocking at my window. Not one for yes but two for no. Some spirit is unsatisfied From watching her world spin out of control. At night she goes walking around her old home Objecting to how it's all changed. She preferred her arrangements to the ones which we made. Walking the ghost Walking the ghost Walking the ghost. There's baggage on my shoulders. Making me stoop. Bending my frame. My neck is crocked lopsided. I will never be tall again. At night she goes walking around her old home. You can feel so much sadness wrapped up in her bones. I can feel so much sadness wrapped up in her bones. Walking the ghost Walking the ghost Walking the ghost. I'm sensitive to unkindness. Stab in the back, burn in the ribs. I need your fingers to straighten my flesh. I hope your fingers are kind. Hope. Fingers. Walking the ghost Walking the ghost Walking my ghost.
James Gold Mother Walking The Ghost There's a knocking at my window. Not one for yes but two for no. Some spirit is unsatisfied From watching her world spin out of control. At night she goes walking around her old home Objecting to how it's all changed. She preferred her arrangements to the ones which we made. Walking the ghost Walking the ghost Walking the ghost. There's baggage on my shoulders. Making me stoop. Bending my frame. My neck is crocked lopsided. I will never be tall again. At night she goes walking around her old home. You can feel so much sadness wrapped up in her bones. I can feel so much sadness wrapped up in her bones. Walking the ghost Walking the ghost Walking the ghost. I'm sensitive to unkindness. Stab in the back, burn in the ribs. I need your fingers to straighten my flesh. I hope your fingers are kind. Hope. Fingers. Walking the ghost Walking the ghost Walking my ghost.
