I had all and then most of you,
some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don't know what I'm supposed to do,
haunted by the ghost of you
Take me back to the night we met.
To me, the internet seems the natural place for a certain kind of ghost story. The late-night glow of the laptop screen; voices from another world... I found myself becoming increasingly fascinated by our growing dependence on the virtual world; the relationships we build there; the communities we create; the connections we make with people we may never meet in real life. This world can be a feast of friends, or the loneliest place on the planet. It's all a matter of perspective.
— I hardly believe in ghost stories any more, Captain Barbossa. <...>
— You'd best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner. You're in one.
Now that you're gone
All that remains
Is the ghost of love.
Deep in my mind
I hear the chains
Of the ghost of love!
You were flawless,
Cruel and thoughtless,
And all that you left of me
Is the ghost of...
You'd best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner. You're in one.
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away