Our Ghost tonight,
Sits with me,
******* down Parliaments,
And bearing the words of Crosby, Stills, and Nash,
Singing of a ghost all their own.

Hovering in the periphery,
A constant watcher,
Constant companion,
Constant 2nd,
Constantly hoping to be 1st.

Cuckolded in emotions,
Unknowingly,
Which makes it worst I suppose,
Being torn apart by unrequited feelings,
Unknown indifference.

A gossamer-thin whisp of a thing,
That ghost at the edge of the vision,
Ever present but unseen,
Speak to me,
You have only but to speak,
To be seen!

The track ends,
I'm brought back,
Our spectral friend is gone,
Sneaking out as CS&N cries,
Making me wonder where they went