Ghosts Come In / by The Black Lex Luthor

I'm reaching out across this stone
The coldness, so old
The coldness like a withered hand bare in Winter wind
but I feel your skin

Bunches of cares and bags of thought, crumpled
I saw Age waste itself today
fell to dust and was blown away
and there are no tears

Sisters tell sisters of slope head men
dangerous dreamers, cowards and sin
They all look like lovers
Till love looks like all the others

I'm reaching out across this stone
A live chill, so bold
Like deadened words before the assassin's twist
He's holding your wrist

Across this stone
Across this stone
I think I fought my way on once
I think I fought for home
I found you