Every time I see your ghost

I write a song to help me cope

Songs of enchantment to steal you away

From the life you lead, a life astray

But look through me as if I'm the ghost

Like fucking songs are nothing to boast

You cut me down, and don't respond

So I get drunk, my mind is gone

And then I write a sad song to help me cope

A song of hatred, without hope

Another bottle, another shot

Broken heart liquor is all I've got

You tell me I'm not man enough

Tell that to the hoes that are lining up

But they can take a number because my mind is made up

I don't fucking want them, and that's the truth

In my heart it's you and me, or me in a noose

But my songs don't matter, cause you never need them

Or ever listen, or even read them

My heart's finally gone, and my love has lost

All my poems burned and my songs all tossed

I'm a fucking ghost, come see my corpse rot

And you're finally happy, but fuck it I'm not

And I write a song to help me cope

But it's not enough, I hear the call of the rope

So I tie a knot, and I pray to god

That he can forgive me, when I'm finally gone

And I write a song to help me cope

But it's not enough, I hear the call of the rope

So I tie a knot, and I pray to god

That he can forgive me, when I'm finally gone

(finally gone.)

(finally gone.)

(gone.)