Stale hallowed walls reach to Heaven
A pocket watch dies at eleven
I trace winding stairs to an empty room
Where ghosts live I must assume

I see a past life in the present
There’s a woman I used to love
The day is sunny and present
It seems as though we are enough

The dust has found its home
Webs hang like art in between spaces
There is an evil in being alone
Seeing such happiness in our faces


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