One day you left your home
Among with all you hated most;
You left old lullabies unsung
And swore you'd lose your mother tongue
As shivering, small hands still clung
To one life free of ghosts.

After your ghosts had been released
You filled up all the holes.
You lived a life of mostly ease
And never knew you paid your fees
For ghosts are mostly memories
And languages are souls.