Ghosts pass by in parking lots
Lonely reminders of everything missing in the purgatory
Of gas stations and pay phones
And hot neon lights on cold foggy nights
Before you were born,
Trees rose up beside highways
And there was no chaos
Between people and reality
Now I look out at wet asphalt
Dying bricks, struggling wires
I see your life in all of this
Just like the lives of every forgotten ghost
Left like cigarettes to soak up rain
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