Creeping from the woodwork
crawling through the floor
seeping from the ceiling
come the ghosts of nevermore.

Milky white but quite transparent
dressed in clothes of many times
faces mourning for the ages
compensation for their crimes.

Men and women of great valor
thieves and plunderers they be
but they're learning to do better
ev'n in death they can't go free.

Hate and cruelty are worthless
they've tried to tell us all along
but we call them "spooks" and "banshees"
and scream at hearing their high song.

Death and pain and desolation
we fantasize these creatures bring
but only warning of our follies
so we don't pay for everything.

If we live a life of terror
a life within the grave we seek
if in life act strong and mirthless
in afterlife, our souls are weak.

Forced to feed on love of others
without comfort of their own
until they pay for others' sinning
they must live ghostly all alone.

If you see a ghost or whiteness
where only empty space should be
hope to heaven you won't join them
hope your death is peaceful free.