Death of the Ghostwriter Lyrics

The ghostwriter sits at home

Paid for his trouble

And he's laughing at the light

That shines on fame

Nothing can be shared

He's no-one's equal or double

Money talks

And no-one ever says his name

She signs every book

With a flourish of fulfillment

And some red ink from a pen

He knew she stole

Now she's on Kaleidoscope

And someone says she's Milton

When she didn't even read the book

Or so he's told

Riding on a ghost train to a ghost town

An of-our-lives-we-made-less-than-the-most-town

Once you get in, you cannot turn around

The ghostwriter's found

So he sits at home

Where he writes his little novel

About the wicked winning out

Without remorse

They find him half-alive

In his half-house that's half a hovel

And his final words are

"Tell her, we are now divorced, of course

Hey you sad-sack hacks

And all you back-room boys beware

They'll buy you up

Like diamonds and fur

Then spit you out like coffee grounds

That fell through the filter

And say "The book could not have been written without her"

Riding on a ghost train to a ghost town

A Your-check-is-coming-in-the-post-town

Once you get in, you cannot turn around

She has found

The ghost of the ghostwriter

Noticed by no-one

It was his choice

So he's paying for it now

Deadlines and death taxes

All that's waiting for us

Wake up and sell the coffee

Milk the profits, kill the cow

It's coming on 2000, lads

Anything's allowed (And how)

(Your life is turning into toast town)