Ghost of perdition Ghost of Mother Lingering death Ghost on Mother's bed Black strands on the pillow Contour of her health Twisted face upon the head Stuck in her chest A warning no one read

The day I die, the day I die Where will we be? I don't need you, I don't need you Besides I barely ever see you anymore And when I do it feels like you're only halfway there Young mothers love me even ghosts of Girlfriends call from Cleveland They will