The Ghost Town

Walking alone in late February
Thinking on friends I’d lost
John and Sean and Christopher
Ryan, Ian, and Mark

Some of them fell to fever and drink
Some to women or song
One of them made it to the good life
But all of them are gone
All of them are gone

Found myself in a place forsaken
Where no one goes anymore
Empty streets and vacant stores
Deserted and forgotten

Dust to dust
And rust on rust
It’s strange how things change
The people and dreams and stuff all go
Only ghosts remain
Only ghosts remain

The Fallout of getting old.