Ghosts

Somewhere past the dial tone hum

Through static prayers on payphone tongues

A voice like a ghost still sings

Soft-lit sermons near the vending machines

Found you where the circuits fray

Burnt CDs in a backyard blaze

We built a kingdom out of borrowed days

But time don't barter time just takes

So paint the walls in silver screen

Trace the names on old receipts

Echoes linger in the street

But no one's left to keep the beat