I walk down these halls a hundred times a day
Just like I have for a hundred years
The walls are lined with wonderful pictures
Pictures of people I don't even know
I watch the tv and I sit in the chairs
I lay in the beds and I listen to the radio
But these things aren't mine
Some of them used to be but most never were
I throw the remote and smash the screen
I flip the chairs over and set the beds on fire
And they think they're the ones who are haunted…
I'm stuck in this world, stuck in this house
I can't die because I'm already dead
And can't move on because my legs are broken
And they think they're haunted…
No they're not haunted
I died like I was born
Without a face and without a name
No one really knew me
No one really cared
A short drop and a sudden stop
And I didn't either
Or so I thought…
Now I'm bound to walk these halls
To sit in the chairs surrounded by pictures that I'm not in
They don't know me
They don't care
They just want me to leave
But I can't
Oh, but how I wish I could
Sometimes I think Hell would be better than this
Sometimes I try to imagine it
Or maybe I could find my way into heaven
If I could convince God to have mercy
Mercy on my battered soul
Mercy would be nice…
Yeah…
And they think they're the ones who are haunted…