I think I'm fine with
          kickin' over church pews
desperate to find where my rituals hide.
Ghost stories never taught me nothin' but runnin'
               and hidin'--
          Tonight they'll be exorcised.

By the end of this year,
I hope they won't recognize me;
all free and clear
from old, sour misfires.
Tired of sad sermons I been tellin' myself
so I'll shelve 'em and try to let myself debride.

I think I'm fine with
          forgetting the words
to this tired parable I've spent too much time with.
Ghost stories never teach ya nothin' but runnin'
               and hidin'--
          from yourself and your best lived life.