A story of caution
for those who believe.
Our minds can play tricks
and can also decieve.

I'd been out for a curry
some beers, vodka rocks.
When I came face to face
with a spectre in socks.

It was a man in his thirties
who's past can't have been great.
'Cause with stubble and red eyes
he looked a right state.

The ghost copied my moves
and he so made me wish,
That this ugly haunting vision
would stop taking the piss.

At this point this ghoulish story
turns into a farce.
Because he sniffed his hand the same
after we both scratched our arse.

Now this is where I feel silly
because on closer inspection,
My ghost was in the mirror
It was my own sad reflection.

I won't tell you what I called myself
the words are not nice.
But am I the only man to be haunted
by beer, curry and rice?