Ghost of Friday

Buried in dark layers of time
Lies the captivated soul of a lifeless man
Roaming around and doing nothing
With acts of weirdness no one understands
It's about a ghost of a Friday
Waiting out to be set free
By the witch-queen of an unquenched desire
Who not Knowing what to do
Keeps the ghost buried in the grave
Of a man wanting to die for and brave


Quirkiness of lying down naked but on the other side
And a passage of time splitting a distance
Owning and making the ghost do the act
That dies when its time to enact
Fear lays around like a smog over the city
Choking the innocuous feeling of wanting to die for
Remorse of getting over the living
And hurting with the eyes and acts unforgiving
Keeps the ghost buried in the grave
Of a soul wanting to escape and fly