When theres is something strange
Living in your head.
Who you gonna call?
No one

If theres something weird
Going on inside.
Who you gonna call?
No one

If you’re seeing things
Running through your head.
Who you gonna call?
No one

I am afraid of myself.


I don’t like to speak of my sadness.
Not in public anyway.
As to tell, I must admit,
Confess it’s name.

But as giving it a name would make it real.
I will never create that character
I will never set that scene
As each day that passes is another further away,
From that awful, awful dream.


Was it perfect?
Did we match?
What about all those nights I sobbed in bed?

With Rose tinted memories,
I struggle to move on.
I will forever,
look behind.

Comparing every fling
to this perfect vision.
Completely stifling.
All for a sugar coated memory.

In fact