I moved here, I stayed here for more than four years.
And I found myself surrounded, surrounded by the ghosts
of the faces and spaces that made this place start to feel like home.
Seth was new in town, he was starting a band, he needed a bassist.
I was hanging around, so we wrote some songs, then we traded places.
I still listen to the songs we used to play
that summer when we hung out almost everyday.
And that sweet sad baritone
was one of the first things to sound like home.
(chorus)
I played drums in that basement.
I played bass in that living room.
I hung out on that front porch and became better friends with you.
And I find myself in the passenger seat
counting up the places that I used to sleep
at least once a week.
I love this place for what it's been,
but do my best not to forget what it can be.
Make new friends, make new music
Face a problem and work through it.
Host a show, host a potluck.
Community doesn't happen by mistake!
If cheap fender guitars can't break the ice better than cheap kegs of beer,
then what the fuck are we doing here?*
*The last couplet in Ghosts is taken from the poem "Prologue" by Alex Mussawir.
credits
from SUPERFRIENDS,
released April 29, 2013
Written by Danny Lemmon
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