She seemed to be the perfect host
When she invited me to tea,
And so it was I raised a toast,
'Cause most perfect she seemed to be.
Till many visits so I paid
To this ever kind perfect host,
But then one day I over stayed
And then it was I saw the ghost.
A ghost before me sitting there,
And yes it was it frightened me,
For hollow now her soul laid bare,
Her true emptiness I could see.
And feel her pain I almost could,
When she projected onto me,
And of her pain it's understood,
When of herself she could not see.
Yes empty was this perfect host
And sadly I saw through and through,
But now I know the way of ghosts
And why they all cry, "Who, Whoo."
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