great ghosts.

I had my hopes of how I would be after living in exile,
After closing your eyes to me.
I even wrote scenes where I reemerged boldly,
Bearded, alive, with Eskimo eyes, new baby on my back,
But I didn’t count the fact that I have ghosts in my mind,
Stowed away, great ghosts of my life,
Great ghosts of old wives and their howling.
So I spent my wilderness time rolling on the ground,
Pulling my hair and wrestling them off,
Yelling at no one, punching snow.
I gathered ghosts and I gave them my lecture,
Bid them away, I pleaded and cried,
“There’s no room in my life for you, or your howling.
Let me undo these ropes and go on living without you,
Not just change where I live.
Go on, get,” I said.
I had my hopes of how I would be,
After sending them off, after getting set free,
But there’s no such thing as living without their prowling.
As you can see, having descended the hill,
I still look like me, I still wallow like Phil,
And forever will.
I’m teeming with ghosts and I’m still whining for wives,
Unknitting my brow, but now I’ve surrendered,
In fact I’ve joined in,
You can hear us howling.

“Great Ghosts” by The Microphones

Live in Japan, February 19th, 21st, and 22nd, 2003