I've a theory of ghosts and i'm a monster to girls 
I stick in their heart like [bad word] spur 
But i've a theory of ghosts: 
They're alive and we're all dead; 
That they're trying to tell us is that it's this way around 

And i've a theory of girls 
They always seem to leave in the spring 
As if they know that it hurts more 
To carry a heartbreak through the summer

In the calender storm, i circled a day and tried to hold on
And in the last powercut, 
I whispered her name 'til the lights came on
Smoked my indian pipe
Listened to the static, the snow on the wire
Smoked my indian pipe
Listened to the static, the snow on the wire

I have one photograph that captures her smile
But i don't have a tape of her laugh 

Watercolors can't help me