Ghosts

When you've fixed up your basement maybe someday I'll come over I'm not sure what I'm sure of, but you say we're getting older And things that were never real can not be ghosts So I wrote these chords out on the back of a therapy worksheet I know it's better now but I hope it's not the ceiling Humming melodies I haven't heard in years I found an old song whose only line was fuck this feeling Watched horror on my own again and now I'll never sleep Spent all night with my phone light trained on all the useless shit I keep And wishing that I still believed in god You were right that it gets better but I hate all the change I know it's good for now but I hope it's not the ceiling Still humming melodies I haven't heard in years I found an old song whose only line was fuck this feeling My ceiling's someone else's floor Last night I heard him call his wife a whore