In the sky there hangs a white crescent moon, It shines bright on the big city below. I'm all alone, but I won't be soon, The ghost in the night, she comes and she goes. I hear her in the kitchen brewing tea, And then she comes to my bedside and stares. I feel her dark eyes piercing straight through me, In the dark, her face is ghastly and pale. She's haunting me yet I do not feel scared, There's something familiar about her stance. I'd reach out and talk to her if I dared, I'd ask her out for a midnight slow dance. The ghost lady is my past self, you see, It's me being terrified of what I can be.