Coulda sworn that I felt hands on my ass
Fingers in this sweater's pocket like spider's legs
Nervous and a little shy and oh, right back to sleep
Didn't bring it up until you were about to leave
And I knew, it couldn't have been true
My thoughts conjured a force, one too bad
And my sweater, somewhere on the floor
Was a spirit in the room
So let afterthought of you
Coulda sworn that I heard them rumbling
Came back to the room with somebody
Climb into the bed, making space for someone else
With a little sunlight, I learned they were by themself
And I knew, it couldn't have been true
My thoughts conjured a form
I was certain you got what you'd been waiting for
Was a figure in the room
Protection and my hopes for you
Nothing for remembering you
Language when referring to
