Ghost Repeater - Jeffrey Foucault

All of the drunks

Dressed up like Santa Claus

Ring Salvation Army bells

All of the drunks

Dressed up like Santa Claus

Ring Salvation Army bells

But the town square is quiet

The juke joints are empty

Everyone’s buying

What no one can sell

And the girl I loved once

Came to me last night

In a dream with a secret to tell

She whispered close

Can’t you hear the ocean?

As she leaned her ear

Against a shotgun shell

Dark was the night

Cold was the ground

I could barely make out the song

Of the Ghost Repeaters

Singing Hallelujah

His truth is marching on

Willie Mae’s crying

At the toll booth to heaven

With a bottle of gin

And a gold-toothed smile

Where the dreams pile up

All washed out and broken

As thick as the stars

On the Miracle Mile

But the movie is over

The theater is empty

The credits are starting to roll

The wages of sin

Don’t adjust for inflation

It’s a buyer’s market

When you sell your soul

The plaza is dark

The picadors are dreaming

Of blood in the alleys

And rust on the vines

They sandbag the bulls

And prop up the matadors

It’s a sweetheart contract

They’re taking their time

And all the ghost prisoners

Who aren’t in the ghost prisons

Don’t weep at the sound

Of your name

They just stare up at the clouds

Of passenger pigeons

Winging back home

To the cities of the plain

The star up above

The 5th Avenue Christmas tree

Is shining tonight

Through the cold and the rain

To light all the faces

In the live nativity

Down on the floor

Of the stock exchange

Dark is the night

Cold is the ground

The armies march out to defend

And the Ghost Repeaters

Of the revelators

Are singing «Peace on Earth

And Good Will to all Men»