The Living Dead

The memories come haunting me

clawing at what’s left of my fragile heart

Empty echoes of life before

everything lost its color

The lonely sound of the

clock ticking down this empty hall

Has it been decades

Or just yesterday

since we laid you in the

cold and greedy ground

Your face ever present

behind the prison cell

of my melancholy mind

I’ll never set you free

I’ll keep you the only way I can

Here in this terrible house

The ghosts of our love

blue silhouettes

on the cobweb wall

dancing to some old

Hank Williams song

And the clock ticks on

And the clock ticks on

Time dragging it’s heavy feet

as I sleepwalk through my sepia days

and hollow nights

Awkwardly waltzing with your blurring memory

You’ve left me

Alone in this

ghost house

ghost town

broken world

Dark hour after dark hour

I remain

And the clock ticks on

And the clock ticks on

And the living keep on living

And I’m half dead

With you in the ground

And Hank serenading these grey walls

And lonesome

empty me

And the clock ticks on