Ghost Sarah and the Sundays

Everyday I feel like more of a ghost
And visions of home
A visitor's throne
I visit alone

It's a warning sign as red as a rose
A poet of prose
The highest of lows
And nobody knows

It's a milk carton message
I've gone missing
I'm in wreckage
I have learned myself a lesson
I'm a child of depression
I sicken at the sight
We are creatures of the night
We will flee or we will fight
We are running from the light

Beam me up I'm ready to go
Just me and my bones
I'll watch from below
With nothing to show

I've been out looking for a home
The streets I will roam
The seeds of unknown
I've turned into stone