Ghostwriter
John Convertino, Joseph Burns
Dying of thirst
Could i still be alive or worse
Where was i last
Parked on the street when a shadow was cast
Taking me out, when a struggle ensued
What was that hole in my shirt
And the blood that spilled to the floor
Like a dead man's
The focus is blurred
And the voice off camera is heard
And the lighting's to blame
Tell the assistant director the same
Pulling away to a final dissolve
Soundtrack provides a lush bed of strings
Before the screen fades to black
And the credits rise above
Like the soul of a dead man
Wandering on
Like a dead man
Wandering on