You worshiped false ghosts instead of gods,
whose favorite sayings were silence.
And you built shrines seven million neurons high
and six thousand hopes wide.

In return,
all you wanted was to taste the sharp edge of lightening
or watch the flight of a ****** of confessions
or have an ******.

Expectations grow in reverse when you're in love,
like that.

You started off with angels and will settle
for a little paranormal activity.
But his telekensis was made of strings
and he never even pulled them.

And yeah, it's nice to have yourself
to yourself again.
But--
Wouldn't it be nice to have a broken heart,
to pull out of your chest to summon
a devil or a doctor?

And
there's nothing warmer than a lie,
but even ghosts have got to die.