found myself, floating about
the crater of a lake behind your house
just a hole in the ground
where the water had drowned
dragging a box, filled to the brim
some notes you wrote wrapped in dying skin
almost too heavy to move
all these pieces of you
it's so much colder now, without the autumn light
it was blue now it's bruised with a clouded sky
now this hollow lake's, just a shallow grave
for what you've become
the ghost of...
julia
whoa-oh, whoa-oh but that's not what we planned
no, that's not what we planned
found myself, at the bottom of it
couldn't see out past the edge of the rim
just alone in a hole with some shit you left me with
i buried all your notes, put the box underground
piled dirt over shirts and the watch that you found
all the time that it keeps just lost meaning for me
it's all echoes from
the ghost of...
julia
whoa-oh, whoa-oh, but that's not what we planned
no, that's not what we planned
we're burning larchmont st. tonight
let it burn from downtown to the westside
let it burn and have the city watch the ash rise
now we don't have to plan ahead
laugh at names to give our kids
we don't have to move out east
or see the world before thirty
you won't have to watch me grieve
or ever help me get to sleep
but when you're feeling incomplete
don't come looking here for me
don't come looking here for me
don't come looking here for me
I'm your GHOST