DESCRIPTION:
Ghost House

The empty wine bottles are still on the floor,
And the ash tray is spilling out with more,
And the telephone hasn’t sounded in two days,
And the house hasn’t been the same since you went away.

Well I’m living in a ghost house now with the empties and a cigarette,
And the ghosts, they are playing with my brain,
And your memory it lingers on, in every corner and in every song,
And these ghosts they are playing with my brain.

Your half empty wine glass on the table,
Still carries the mark from your lips,
And those cushions on the sofa,
Where we’d lie and where we’d kiss.

Well I’m living in a ghost house now with the empties and a cigarette,
And the ghosts, they are playing with my brain,
And your memory it lingers on, in every corner and in every song,
And these ghosts they are playing with my brain.

Woke up with a martini,
And I thought of you and me,
Of how we were so beautiful,
And how we were so free.
Well it wasn’t meant to end like this,
No it wasn't meant to be,
But for a little time we were so young and free.

Well I’m living in a ghost house now with the empties and a cigarette,
And the ghosts, they are playing with my brain,
And your memory it lingers on, in every corner and in every song,
And these ghosts they are playing with my brain.

© Olly Stokoe 2001