There's a ghost in the attic
Of another dead bandit
He sings a song soft and sweet
About how change is like molasses
And dancing's for the lasses
Cause men tend to lose their feet
I'm pacing and chasing the moment is waning
The lost ship of Theseus that's where my brain is
Concocted a scheme to escape from the chaos
Turned into a ghost now the truth is a séance
Subjective at best but a hoax at its worst
Clarity can be a gift and a curse
If I make a verse and inject what I learned
Am I subject to blame did I make your life worse
There's a ghost in a panic
Of another dead bandit
She sings a song soft and sweet
About how change is like molasses
And everything is past tense
The ghost may never be at peace
Ghosts are the proof that our life has a spirit
Ghosts are our memories gone but still with us
Ghosts are the stories we'll tell to our children
And ghosts are our friends they're the people who get us
Everything's changed but it's also the same
The last couple months I've been wracking my brain
Killing my ego unshackling chains
And finally planning a route from this cave
So raise a toast to the spirits
Sipping moonshine that's the clearest
While the moon shines and the sun has gone away
Swaying with the ghosts
And their haunted rusty notes
Belting blues until the day
There's a ghost in the static
Of another dead bandit
They sing a song soft and sweet
About how change is like molasses
But change still surely happens
And one day they'll find their peace