Why are you out there alone?
Can't you seem to find your way
home?
Huddled and broken outside in the cold,
The queen's in your parlour
counting her gold.
You fell like an angel for that old routine
Into
something deeper than a magazine.
The night is as thick as cream
And
the ghosts are out down at the old house.
I can hear them talking across the
lake.
It's more than a question of time.
It's half as much riddle as
rhyme.
I went to the well when I knew it was dry.
I lost my true love and
I don't know why.
I just said that things would be better this way.
Well,
what else was I supposed to say?
The silence is solid as clay
And the
ghosts are out down at the old house.
If I stand at the bottom of the hill, I
can see them dancing.
Does somebody finally win when somebody finally
gives in?
Is it so amazing that you could be sold?
The trail that they're
blazing they're paving with gold.
If following footsteps is how to
survive,
It's a miracle that you're alive.
Your letter just hasn't
arrived.
And the ghosts are out down at the old house.
They've been
watching lots of TV lately.
I can hear every move they make.
The ghosts
are out down at the old house.
I can hear them talking across the lake.