From the recording Santa Fe

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A Ghost That You Call by Your Name
©1979 Michael R. J. Roth

"Come to me now," she sang, like a siren,
and he swore it was love, but she called it desire.
Taking his hands, home and the children,
she disappeared in his tears, saying,
"I am becoming a virgin."

Winter was cold, and summer was crowded,
and he needed a job, but his sins pinned him down, dead-
tired, eaten by lies, restaurants and hotels.
Well, he smokes like a demon,
but he get his routine from the angels.

But it's all right, that was a long time ago.
And it's all right,
there's no need to feel any shame.
It's just a ghost that you call by your name.

Pursing their lips, they promised him nothing,
claiming life was a secret they imported from Egypt.
Eyes like a priest, heretic, raging,
he confides he's migrating
to an ancient civilization.


He said, "My old man drank like the savior of whiskey,
and his friends in the bars flocked to pick at my cheeks."
Stray dogs announce they can outlast us,
and night comes like a junkman
to pick up the light from the plaza.