Of all the things we've said and done,
I didn't think that this would be one.
The clinging vines along the house:
I pulled them right up from the ground.
No harm in keeping them around
Except that they will slowly starve me out.
I'm gone like a ghost with all my armor still on,
Gone to the shelter of a happier haunt.
Of all the things we've said and done,
I didn't think that this would be one.
The plants are dead under the sun,
From fear or love or neither one.
I'm gone like a ghost with all my armor still on,
Gone to the shelter of a happier haunt.
I'll be gone like a ghost with all my armor still on.
Don't you know that I'll be happier to run?

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