Phantoms by Kylesa
Oak trees at night are hiding places for those who can't sleep
Writing in parking lots with nothing to buy
Empty stores and overgrown grass
Picture postcard of America
Raindrops look like spider webs by the street lamp tonight
I can remember no farther back than this
I contrived to purge my mind
No farther back than this I thought of looking for the key
No farther back than this - For a door with no lock
No farther back than this
In this sunlight, night rolls through my eyes
I saw a sea of flames and smoke in the sky
They don't hear me; they are phantoms
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