Ghosts

When you've fixed up your basement maybe someday I'll come over
 I'm not sure what I'm sure of, but you say we're getting older
 And things that were never real can not be ghosts
 So I wrote these chords out on the back of a therapy worksheet
 I know it's better now but I hope it's not the ceiling
 Humming melodies I haven't heard in years
 I found an old song whose only line was fuck this feeling
 Watched horror on my own again and now I'll never sleep
 Spent all night with my phone light trained on all the useless shit I keep
 And wishing that I still believed in god
 You were right that it gets better but I hate all the change
 I know it's good for now but I hope it's not the ceiling
 Still humming melodies I haven't heard in years
 I found an old song whose only line was fuck this feeling
 My ceiling's someone else's floor
 Last night I heard him call his wife a whore