Look up into the sky,do you see that black crow
Listens to its wings,they make a certain sound,
That sound is the ghost of the living.
The ghost of the living,lives on your breath
Every time you breath in and out
it grows a bit stronger.
Every time you cry or sweat,it inhales
your fluids and spirit.
There is also the ghost of the dead,who is
Trying to communicate.
Whether it is your brother or sister,or your
mother or father.
The ghost of the dead will show you the way,
on your way to a better day.
But if the ghost of the living and the ghost of
the dead ever get together,don’t let them in
You don’t want to hear what they have to say,
So close your eyes,and make a wish and maybe
they will go away.
The ghost of the living,cant survive if you take your
last breath.
It cant be without tears and sweat.
The ghost of the dead is still hoping and waiting
Still communicating,it whispers in the dark.
Whether it is on the wind or the rain,the ghosts
will linger seeking a host.
Someone down on his luck,someone looking for
the answer to his prayers.
If you pray hard enough,will you get peace,some sort
relief?
Like the ghosts your prayers are just whispers in
the night.
You pray to a higher power,the man of the minute,
the man of the hour.
But in the end,it doesn’t really matter,cause when you
take your last breath,you will cease to be,you are
just a memory.
The ghost of the dead is now your companion your
chaperon,he will show you around your new home.
But you don’t care,cause you no longer exist,you
are a piece of dust,at the most.
You are Tomorrows Ghost.
The black crow lifts its wings and takes off with a
Squawk.
Man I wish that fucker could talk.
stevenjohnstonblog 