There was a dirt road that is now paved
There sits a house where the tree line fades
Through its doors I do not know
Who walks the halls beside my ghost?

On a tree right down the road
A cross is nailed and the oak tree bows
On a cross tattered and dim
Reads my name-- never forgotten

Beneath my feet once powdered brown
Green grass grows all around
Except one spot where dead grass lay
Evidence of other days
Through the glass- between the blinds
Bottom the sound of whistling chimes
Into my room I glanced to check
If my room was clean and not left a mess
But where clothes once lay-- a different boy plays
And on his mind it does not weigh
Who walks these halls beside my ghost?