My friend told me about the ghosts at work
Three of them that act like a jerk
Turning on radios when he would walk
The sound of foot steps without the ring of talk
Hiding his three-wheeled bicycle in different places
Closing doors to the outside in darkened places
Who are these ghosts that haunt this place
One was killed on a press that destroyed his face
The two others are older ghosts from another time
When bowling alleys and pins were made when a dime was worth a dime
They want their privacy like anyone would
See, it is you who are in their home doing no good
Soon they will have the place all to themselves after December
Until the wrecking ball comes some day to render
A place they once called home
To haunt and to roam