Letras
Minster Room, nineteen forty-five
Uniform hanging, still alive
Window open, frozen air
I feel a hand that isn’t there
Bedsheets pulled, the night complains
Footsteps running through the lanes
Down the hall, past Peckett’s door
Someone walks who died before
You say it’s just an old pub floor
But walls don’t lie
They’ve seen it all before
Don’t worry
The ghosts don’t believe in you either
Don’t worry
You’re late to this place
Don’t worry
They don’t need your faith
Stone remembers every face
Golden orb from timber and stone
Rising slow, then overthrown
Faces seen where staff can’t be
Like time forgot who’s you or me
A man steps through the barroom wall
Seventeenth century stare, he stalls
Stops mid-step, looks straight at you
Like he knows what’s coming too
Laugh it off, call it pretend
But he keeps walking when you blink again
Don’t worry
The ghosts don’t believe in you either
Don’t worry
You don’t exist to them
Don’t worry
You’re just passing through
What’s left of when and who
By Bishopthorpe where tall grass bends
She still walks, she still searches
Weeks too late, the body found
Head lost to time, not to the ground
Buried once, but never still
She walks the trees against her will
Headless, wrapped in funeral white
Looking for herself each night
Stone tower burning, thirteen ninety
Fire eats prayers, screams turn holy
Trapped inside, no way to flee
They chose the flames over the enemy.
Now rain won’t wash these walls clean
Red stains where hands have been
Call it rust, call it a lie
But stone still bleeds when you pass by
You don’t believe in ghosts
But they remember you
Don’t worry
The ghosts don’t believe in you either
Don’t worry
They’ve buried kings and names
Don’t worry
From tavern floors to tower flames
This city keeps its pain.