Oh, my son
Heed these words
My father never shared them with his own
Take this bread
Drink this wine
Let the blood run down your throat and up your spine
There's a ghost
On my lips
She gives me wisdom
To guide your steps
If I had been
A godly man
I could have spared your mother
From my drunken hands
And as we dig
Her casket's bed
Oh, think upon my sins for which she bled
There's a ghost
On my lips
She gives me wisdom
To guide your steps
Oh, oh
Oh, my son
Heed these words
My father never shared them with his own
Comparte Your Mother's Ghost! con tus amigos.
Que tal te parece Your Mother's Ghost de J. Tillman?
