I can't escape the living ghosts.
They touch my skin with their cold hands,
They drag me out of sea to coast.
Behind their backs - I see - past stands.
I can't surrender to this force,
I'll run away by railroad's spine.
They'll follow. Always will - Of course -
Their name is memories. They line
Before my eyes when I'm asleep
And - when awake - behind my neck.
Instead of throwing them, I keep:
Alas! Without them I'm a wreck.