Ghost of Prospect High

A society lady, and a dignified death
Quiet sang amazing grace, on the old baptismal steps
Gone are the parties, and those sweet cigarettes
Gone is the absence of late Mr. Jones on the far side of the bed

How high, was that Brooklyn sky?
And how many mid-Julys did you burn through?
Good luck to miracle drug
It curses as it cures its way through you

Time marches on, Marches on this time
May I walk you home tonight?
Time Marches on Marches on did try
It's not what you leave it's what you leave behind

The kitchen remodelled when the brownstone sold
But gone is the vase of Sunday flowers in the dining room window
Here are the trappings of a strangers life
The sound of children in your hall, ones you do not recognize

How high, was that Brooklyn sky?
And how many mid-Julys did you burn through?
Good luck to miracle drug
It curses as it cures its way through you

Time marches on, Marches on this time
May I walk you home tonight
Time Marches on Marches on did try
It's not what you leave it's what you leave behind

A Tree grows, gets chopped down
Move over, move a town
A decade, a century
what's time funny to remain found dreams

How high, was that Brooklyn sky?
And how many mid-Julys did you burn through?
Good luck to miracle drug
It curses as it cures its way through you

Time marches on, Marches on this time
May I walk you home tonight
Time Marches on Marches on did try
It's not what you leave it's what you leave behind

This once was a forest and then was a farm
And then was a neighbourhood of immigrants
Between two world wars
And now Is a stranger to so many eyes
And the sunsets over prospect, and one by one the stars aligned
For a second put aside