Well I’ve only been a ghost about a dozen years at most and when I try to stir the spirits they don’t move.
They say a little pressure here and you can learn to soak the fear from all the living folks who’ve got something to prove.

They visit the cemetery with their camera emissary searching for a fright to make them feel alive.
It’s a rather stupid goal when all the dead have lost their souls and taking pictures won’t get anyone revived.

But when the full moon’s high it’s time to say goodbye and sweetling, I won’t lie, it hurts to die.
And you can whine and cry throughout the whole damn night but death you can’t defy, although you’ll try.
We’re all a little shy.

Oh, life, we’re all a little shy.

I was born in this here graveyard, momma said I never prayed hard and perhaps that’s why I can’t escape this place.
So I roam around the tombs whispering half a thousand tunes hoping that one will send me to those pearly gates.

There’s a hundred other wights, phantoms, specters, and poltergeists with whom I share this sacred home, our hallowed ground.
I thought the point of consecration was to allow the salvation of the wand’ring hopeless shadows still around.

See where the Earth meets sky? Oh, how I long to fly above all of mankind, oh me oh my.
And when I reach God’s eyes I’ll demand His reply, the question so implied: please tell me, why?
We’re all a little shy.

Oh, life, we’re all a little shy.

I don’t remember all that much about my death.
It’s just a fractured painting and one final breath.
They say that life was just a test and though I know I did my best, heaven I beg to be addressed: why am I still a thing possessed? I hate the ice within my chest, I’m sick and frankly unimpressed; you could have guessed my one request is peaceful rest.

Even as a ghost I’m still distressed.

I’m a troubled apparition with a vain futile ambition longing for the comfort of a beating heart.
It’s a cold and empty land and though I hardly understand I know that finding one will be a fleeting start.

So come on down, it’s no necropolis but I’ve got a hypothesis I need some breathing humans to assess.
It may come as a big surprise so you’d better say your goodbyes since you’ll be joining me tonight I must confess.

I need to bleed you dry, now that I can’t deny, life’s in such short supply o’er on this side.
I’d love a people pie that money just can’t buy; I want to eat that thigh, what a delight.
Oh come on, don’t be shy.

Oh, life, we’re all a little shy.