I've been scraping the leaves from the gutters in my head

I've been watching the rain gather pools around my bed

If my body was a house, its inhabitants are dead

And their ghosts, they know exactly what I've said

Yes, their ghosts, they are singing about what I've said

The rich man, the poor man, they both learn to steal

The only difference that I find is the cut of the deal

I'll find a bottle and he'll find a fine meal

But their ghosts, they know exactly how I feel

Yes, their ghosts, they are singing about how I feel