She’d been talking about the whispering wind and her spirits Could the feelings be real down to heart of the soul? Shutting those senses off inside her thought machine “Not my own!” shrieks the spirit…”Not my own! Not my own!” That kissin’ and huggin’ are up for some lovin’ That whirlygig chariot right up to heaven Standing on the corner of the main drag that day And crossing the street to that SevenEleven She felt the urge for a song that was written for her No, there’s no sister who would tear it apart Like a sweet melody or a song from the angels It was meant just for her, like a song from the heart Sweet Judy Blue eyes, are you borne by a liar? So this song is your own There’s no reason to cry If you want it, just take it, it’s yours, for the giving Tell Reisa you wrote it There’s a fire in the sky And if someone should stop you or get in your way, Call in nineteen policemen at the end of the day… The Ghostwriters’ Sonnet, just bury the hatchet Your brill shines forever Nobody can match it The Ghostwriters’ Sonnet, just bury the hatchet Your brill shines forever Nobody can match it he Ghostwriters’ Sonnet, just bury the hatchet Your brill shines forever Nobody can match it The Ghostwriters’ Sonnet, just bury the hatchet Your brill shines forever Nobody can match it Nobody can match it Nobody can match it