Erase all the Color;
I remember you in black and white.
No in-between,
you were always wrong or right.
I still see you with a can of Coors.
Did that make eight or nine?
I was never clear,
was it your love or hate that was mine?
And the pattern of that wind blows through everything I know,
and the ghost of your pain is still haunting my soul.
Your world fell apart before my eyes.
So much was not my choice.
Desperate to scream and shout,
but I could never find my voice.
Hamlet, he had it good.
His father's ghost lived in Hollywood.
But he didn't understand so well,
what can't be controlled is a child's hell.
And the pattern of that wind blows through everything I know,
and the ghost of your pain is still haunting my soul.
I'm only nine or ten;
love is love that is rearranged.
So controlled is the old man,
so crazed is the wild rage.
The little boy, he watches everything.
I hear the message loud and clear.
Reach for what you cannot have,
push away what inches too near.
Many fingers point, but really who's to blame.
My soul is still haunted by the ghost of your pain.
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