You saw the brand new skinny ghost.
It was lost in a dream.
Beside you, you felt the inflating lungs of an angel.
Then emerged the duo.
The one the notebook created.
It left you thinking.

I saw you sitting there, on the edge thinking.
Your face morphing into a ghost.
You claimed that change wasn’t new creation.
Psychologists say that you’re trapped within a dream.
I scream because we were the extravagant duo.
Take away the angel.

Did you love the soft ways of the angel?
She always left me on the ground, thinking.
Why did she escape the duo?
I begged her to be the ghost.
Fill my head with beautiful dreams.
Take me to the time of creation.