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.
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