Jimmy Is A Ghost

Jimmy is a ghost

Of the man he used to be

He sits in the rain

Drinking second hand tea

And he hopes that his kids

Will never have to see

His hands outstretched

In an ignored plea

Yeah Jimmy is a ghost

Jimmy is a ghost

Off of Oxford Street

He has nothing left to barter

He has nothing left to eat

Just threadbare dreams

And train...

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Noticed

I lived my life, most often, like a ghost,

ethereal, drifting from room to room,

a chill chasing me from pillar to post.

Rippling across the senses of those whom,

in solitude, sought meaning in their life

before they passed beyond it to the tomb.

I was not noticed by them, or my wife

who gladly let me rest in silent shade

whilst stab...

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