CD: Folkscene Collection III
Ghost In This House
By Hugh Prestwood

I don't pick up the mail, I don't pick up the phone
I don't answer the door, I'd as soon be alone
I don't keep this place up, I just keep the lights down
I don't live in these rooms, I just rattle around

I'm just a ghost in this house
I'm just a shadow upon these walls
As quietly as a mouse I haunt these halls
I'm just a whisper of smoke
I'm all that's left of two hearts on fire
That once burned out of control, it took my body and soul
I'm just a ghost in this house

Well I don't mind if it rains, I don't care if it's clear
I don't mind staying in, no, there's another ghost here
She sits down on your chair and she shines with your light
And she lays down her head on your pillow at night

I'm just a ghost in this house
I'm just the shell of the man I was
I'm living proof of the damage heartbreak does
I'm just a whisper of smoke
I'm all that's left of two hearts on fire
That once burned out of control, it took my body and soul
I'm just a ghost in this house

That once burned out of control, it took my body and soul
I'm just a ghost in this house

---

CDs: The Stars Come Out For Christmas & Keepers Christmas
Upon A Christmas Eve
By Hugh Prestwood

I walked out on Christmas Eve to see the city lights
Up and down the avenue, I marveled at the sights
Flung out diamonds, strung out pearls, shimmered in the cold
While dark skyscrapers stood their watch on windows dressed in gold

And like a wise man chasing stars, I looked for a child
One asleep inside of me who Christmas once beguiled
Through the falling snow I tracked a fading memory
Until decked out in ragged clothes, an angel came to me

She smiled and said the one you've lost is easy to retrieve
All you need to bring him home is something to believe
Then a thousand bells rang out announcing Christmas morn
And at that moment I did feel the child in me reborn

So fill your heart with love tonight and wear it on your sleeve
For all good things are possible upon a Christmas Eve
For all good things are possible upon a Christmas Eve

---

A Friend of Mine Is Going Blind
By John Dawson Read

A friend of mine is going blind and in the darkness
He can see so much better than me
How he cherishes each new thing that he sees
They are locked in his head
He will save them for when he's in darkness again

He can't read books, he can't paint pretty pictures
But his vision's much clearer than mine
For he knows that all he's missing with his eyes
Is more vivid in the mind when a man is going blind
So he says he doesn't mind

Won't you sing, Tommy Davidson, of things that you have seen
Sing of winter's bite and summer nights and places you have seen
Sing of dewdrops, forget-me-nots, the silver silky sheen
That plays across the morning meadow on the hillside

This friend of mine, he plays guitar and sings his songs so well
He sings so much better than me
He can sing you any pictures that you see
He will sketch hem out in time, draw the details in the lines
Then he colors it with rhyme

And oh how he loves his guitar and it loves him
And they play so much sweeter than me
As if to say that come the day when he can't see
He will have at his command so much beauty in his hands
That the loss won't come so hard

Won't you sing, Tommy Davidson, of things that you have done
Sing of silver seagulls sailing into evening's golden sun
Sing of city streets and villages and people on the run
Won't you show them how it's done, Tommy Davidson

A friend of mine is going blind but through the darkness
He can see so much better than me
How he cherishes each new thing that he sees
They are locked in his head
He will save them for when he's in darkness again
A friend of mine is going blind