I’ve a theory of ghosts and I’m a monster to girls - I stick in their heart like a rusty spur. nBut I’ve a theory of ghosts : they’re alive and we’re all dead; that they’re trying to tell us that it’s this way around. nAnd I’ve a theory of girls : they always seem to leave in the Spring, as if they know that it hurts more to carry a heartbreak through the Summer. nIn the calendar storm, I circled a day and tried to hold on. nAnd in the last powercut, I whispered her name ‘til the lights came on. nSmoked my Indian pipe. nListened to static, the snow on the wire. nSmoked my Indian pipe. nListened to static, the snow on the wire. nI have one photograph that captures her smile but I don’t have a tape of her laugh. Watercolours can’t help me.