Ghost Stories

I slept on the futon and listened to sounds in the silence
I left when the day broke and walked through the city alone
I looked for a towel, forgot mine when I left Virginia
The snow in my boots was much warmer than you
And I just wanted to go home, go home
Home

Through layers and layers of blankets, I felt my heart beating
We left in the afternoon, headed down I-95
Directions in notebooks and ice on the roads slowed our progress
We got lost in New York, but the view from the bridge
It was beautiful that night, all those lights
Those lights

A couple hotel rooms and coffee shops later, I found you
Telling your secrets and ghost stories soft in the dark
When you fell asleep, quiet in the backseat, I remembered why I loved you
And my brother drove on while I wrote you a song in my mind
It wasn't the first time
It wasn't the first time
It wasn't the first time
It wasn't the first time