Ghost

There's a ghost in my head

And he sure sounds like me

And when he whispers, he speaks like I would speak

And it's much too easy to

Fall for all of his schemes

And break the jar on his feet

It's the lovely aroma of pride, it is so sweet

But that's the old me, 'cause

It's in my weakness that strength is made complete

It's in the dark that I shine

And when the ghost in my head cries victory