While you're going around trying to keep people out of hell,
I'm going around trying to keep the hell out of people.

Your evil sends chills through my bones and it flows through the back roads of my arteries.
Genetic memory fights technology
Administered by moral midgets.
There's picket signs in my eyes. When they strike you'll wanna talk business.
Note to self, go for self, go for broke
No one else ever showed you the ropes or helped.
And what are they supposed to do?
Of course they gotta rebuild every wall that you broke on through.
Drugs won't get my thoughts runnin'
I need em to make these thoughts stop comin'.
Last night I had a dream I shot someone.
When I awoke my hands were full of the fluid my heart's pumpin'.
I went to get it tested.
The doctor was not so interested in analyzing the message.
He had a pill...that if he issues out...
He gets paid on the side. I got a lifetime supply.

Maybe he's a ghost.
And maybe I'm the host.
The Polterzeitgeist who knows the right price
To pay the priest to release me from these ropes.
Maybe I'm the ghost.
And maybe he's the host.
The Polterzeitgeist who knows the right price
To pay the priest to release me from these ropes.

I fell into a Venus fly trap with a nicotine eye patch.
Pirate of the ship, sippin' Listerine nightcaps.
Disguised her voice with the breath of a clean slate.
Awake every morning to the death of my dream date.
Selling sex to cheapskates with rusty blades.
Fuck to forget and call it lay away.
Got an addiction to thin ice. The whisper of wind pipes.
I'm mister insight. This social costume is skin tight.
Nah, I don't believe in you.
And you don't believe that I'm leaving you.
As you shrink away to nothing in my rear view.
Too close to call. Too far to be hearing you
Singing my melody. I heard it subconsciously.
When you spoke in your sleep it sounded like honesty.
When you awoke, you said it was not for me.
I said, “Oh...I know...obviously.”
You're not my Yoko so I cropped the photo
And I rocked it solo. Now you gotsta go...GO!

Maybe you're a ghost.
And maybe I'm the host.
The Polterzeitgeist who knows the right price
To pay the priest to release me from these ropes.
Maybe I'm the ghost.
And maybe you're the host.
The Polterzeitgeist who knows the right price
To pay the priest to release me from these ropes.

Maybe you're a ghost...and I'm the conduit.
The common thread in every superficial compliment.
The loose string in your moral fabric. Hole in your logic.
Hopelessly romantic in a wound socket.
Leaving notes for the next to come.
Written in blood from the wound that they'll exit from.
I don't compose prose or sonnets.
I just write like my life depends on it.
Front like I'm agnostic. But...I don't believe in you.
You've got a transparent nature that I'm seeing through.
Someone spiked the punch that you beat me to.
Sometimes I'm not even sure it's even you.

Maybe you're a ghost. And maybe I'm the host.
The Polterzeigiest who knows the right price to pay the priest to release me from these ropes.