Southern Gothic Nightmare Lyrics

I met the ghost of Pat Conroy

Walking down the Sullivan's Island shore

He offered me a cigarette

I said "No one smokes those anymore"

He said "Well, sonny could you tell

An old feller like me

Where he'd be inclined

To go and find some more lively company?"

I've been sleepwalking, up all night talking

Bout the troubles of the day

Turn around and turn away

I've been running round this cobblestone town

All the statues they turn around and turn away

I saw the ghost of Robert Smalls

Sailing silently on past the fort

He left the sea, headed skyward

In search of some heavenly port

But when he got close to

That old crescent moon

It seemed to call him home

And his rebel ship

Anchored on a lip of lunar stone

I've been sleepwalking, up all night talking

Bout the troubles of the day

Turn around and turn away

I've been looking round

This church-infested town

For someone to help me pray

But they all turn away

I can hear you 'cross the bay

You're scaring all them boats away

Like a siren on the rock

White supremacy, you knock

O Charleston, don't look so afraid

These are ghosts that you have made

I don't see a way out anywhere

Of this southern gothic nightmare