Teksty: John Vanderslice. My Old Flame.

My old flame, my wife, poor ghost old love
My old flame, my wife
One day in June, I drove by our old house in Maine
Everything changed for the best, how quivering and fierce we were
Simmering like birds with our videos and records

Our old house everything?s changed
Bleached out and aired, ikea-d and swept bare
Poor ghost, old love, speak with your old voice
Of flaming insight that kept us awake at night
In one bed and apart, my old wife, my old flame