Like ghost games, I conjure up
Pictures of events in my mind.
The swearing and the cannons of laughter,
The buzz of static counting out time.
What I wish would have happened,
I now paint and dress it up well,
And send it like
Truth to the tape,
Letting history swell.
Fingerprints are all but gone,
So I can make up the story as it
Goes along.
There might be the good old days
If all the right things get forgotten.
A smile can still be photogenic
If you can't see the molars are rotten.
I hope you've had revalations
Since I left you behind.
I'll at least pretend that you're happy
To stop guilt from making me come untied, since
Fingerprints are all but gone,
So I can make up the story as it
Goes along.
Those fingerprints,
They're almost gone.
I can make up the story
As it goes along.