Ghostwriter

Dying of thirst

Could i still be alive or worse

Where was i last

Parked on the street when a shadow was cast

Taking me out, when a struggle ensued

What was that hole in my shirt

And the blood that spilled to the floor

Like a dead man's

The focus is blurred

And the voice off camera is heard

And the lighting's to blame

Tell the assistant director the same

Pulling away to a final dissolve

Soundtrack provides a lush bed of strings

Before the screen fades to black

And the credits rise above

Like the soul of a dead man

Wandering on

Like a dead man

Wandering on