Was A Ghost Seven Mary Three

There was a ghost, here in my house
That talks just like it knows, everything about
The road, that we went down
As it underlines, everything I've kept, I've know inside

My mind is numb, a counterfeit my nerve
Tell me are you sick, of haunting me like this?
And I R-U-S-T, rust on your version of the truth
I carefully cut out empty space, for friends I knew

Another suitcase, of scar shaped souvenirs
That I've collected, every day that you're not here
Another closet, of busted up skeleton bones
I'm chasing off your, ghost

Books stacked three stories high
Between the pages they will find
Pictures of you
Am I in them, too?

Scar shaped souvenirs

Something in the sound, of car wheels at night
On a straight shot black-top road, where I thought I'd find
The ghost I used to know, it's all in my head
I never said I'd want to see you again