Tangible ghosts stare straight through me
As I run down a winding path
They call out my steps by one two three
As I sort through the aftermath

I still reach for your hand when I’m scared
Sometimes you reach for mine as well
Though you’ll never believe I’ve prepared
For the night that we hold hands in hell

Love is too sweet an idea for reality
Hate is too bitter an emotion for us
Kiss me for a not-so-meaningful duality
We melt when we touch the sun, Icarus