Ghost Song

maybe when i'm dead in the ground, i'll rise and make a ghost.
for the liars, forest fires, those who led me to my grave.
would it be fun to be an atom bomb, and then to blow your ass to the sea?
i mean, is it wrong, when i said all along, it's just how we teach by example,
don't we?

for what you taught me, a cup of coffee. we'll sit and speak of death.
and if per chance, you shit your pants, i'll haunt you to your dying breath,
but if by fate, a second date, we take the show on the road...
then we'll teach fear to those who's actions bear the weight of those who died to soon
to know unrest.