I've a theory of ghosts and I'm a monster to girls I stick in their heart like a rusty spur But I've a theory of ghosts They're alive and we're all dead That they're trying to tell us is that it's this way around
And I've a theory of girls They always seem to leave in the spring As if they know that it hurts more To carry a heartbreak through the summer
In the calender storm, I circled a day and tried to hold on And in the last powercut I whispered her name 'til the lights came on Smoked my indian pipe Listened to the static, the snow on the wire Smoked my indian pipe Listened to the static, the snow on the wire
I have one photograph that captures her smile But I don't have a tape of her laugh
