Sinking through the floor I caught a glimpse of you lying asleep. Stumbling through the walls I wonder if it’s you haunting me. There’s a doubt in my mind it was ever the time to go, That I had to see your face again. I woke up in the wrong dream. I don't write about death a lot, because I don't know anything about it. I like to imagine that the worst possible fate would be to die and have to haunt somebody- perhaps the one person- you never wanted to see again. No real rhythm or meter, just words. Not 100% sure why I wrote this, but I guess it's better to be diverse. Sean