Dead flowers in the corner of your room
Sweep them up with your grandmother's old broom
Oh babe I thought I knew ya
But all I did was screw ya
Dead poets are just ghosts in the hall
Writing letters in the middle of the fall
Oh babe he was a good man
I wish he'd seen this new land one last time
Passing glances are just letters in the mail
Return to sender while they're running in the hail
Oh babe I tried to warn ya
When it rains in California
Dead presidents are just paper in your purse
You wanna love me but it just might be a curse
Oh babe I'm running from ya
Cause lover I once loved ya in my mind