"Blessed By Your Own Ghost" by Elliott

he sits among the rest, buried in his seat. the clatter of
the crowd is drowning out his speech. he turns to look at
us, a mirror burned in deep. he wonders who you are, you
wonder what he means. we are the matched and numbered ones.
we have been placed in all their codes. you may be blessed
by your own, you may be blessed by your own ghost. she makes
the driver blush with pains of tongues and knees. she opens
up the car leaving air to breathe. the moments all messed up
with lanes that bleed in sheets that cover up our tracks and
lead us to her keep. we are the matched and numbered ones
who live in constant disrepair. you may be blessed by your
own, you may be blessed by your own ghost. here i'm
stressing over fallen angels with cause to cover. we are the
matched and numbered ones who live in constant disrepair.
you may be blessed by your own, you may be blessed by your
own ghost.