Hot Chocolate
The Microphones
rode that ghost from her house to my house
darkened by the long gone sunset
trees hang over and make it even darker
i pass by them every single night
there's a ghost that lives right above me
floating dead but never been alive
not a boy, a girl, and only at night
fills my tummy and makes me something
she fills me up like drinking hot chocolate
sweet and warm and shes my honey
when i have to go home i wanna... sucicide
after that im awfully lonely
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