The Haunting

Is there a saint for sorrow?

A saint for sadness?

A saint for death?

A saint for madness

Because lord knows I can't pray in a haunted house

This is where your spirit left me

Dead ass drunk

And dead ass empty

I pulled up the white, picket fences today

There’s no use for them now that your garden is gone

The neighbors don't talk to me anymore

If they do look at me, I only see a sideways frown

But it’s hard to even get that

I hate myself for the love

I could never give

And I’m a damn good catch in a white t-shirt

Dig?

I wonder if she knew that

and she knew that

and her and her

Could they just tell?

Push to the left

Push to the right

All of them

But one I've never met

She knows more than I know and she is a ghost

And she is seriously

Haunting my soul