The ghost stood behind the curtains
Listening to happiness ringing out
And recalling his life he is hurting
If only he was able to speak and shout
Would the room welcome a ghost
Drifting among them like a cold wind
He so wanted to tell stories and boast
But could he speak about when he sinned
So, the ghost remained still
The house would soon be empty again
It would be his to do as he will
But nothing compensated for his pain.