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Nervous GhostLoudly I imagine on the day you leftThe shrill voice, random hatred of all the things that bounce To sell this awkward diary I still steal my pieces I blew in on a faint breeze And stuck around like a nervous ghost Nobody, not even rain Has such small hand You’re gone, fated to wander A dismal part of the universe And I'm exiled to live in a hovel In a swamp filled with surly lizards A walking pile of ashes With few incredible memories Nobody, not even rain Has such small hand |