Ghost In My Bedsit

The sick patch on the carpet, the night we drank too much
The gravy stains on the Belling Stove, it misses the woman’s touch
The hair on the soap, the make-up in the sink
The toothbrush that you left behind, it makes me stop and think
There’s a ghost, in my bedsit, of how it used to be
There’s a ghost n my bedsit, and it keeps on haunting me
The scratches on my records, from where you left them on the floor
The dirty clothes in my washing bag, when you went out of the door
Now I’m sitting all alone, and the silence burns my ears
Memories dance around my head, every second seems like years
The presence in my bedsit, that just won’t go away
Like the stains on my duvet, from the nights you used to stay
Programmes we watched together, I’ve still got the video
And the telephone still rings for you from friends who do not know