"O, ghost of lost flesh, you have wandered endless for nearly eight decades, under starlit sky and crescent moon. Amid winded boughs, and withered leaves, you wander, doomed to walk the night. Like fume of smoke melting into dawn, Ghost Tom, cease your nightly wander..."
"...for certain of life's pathways taken, can never be the same. Lost lands and forgotten moments, briefly reappear. A whisper of un-bodied memory, not lost, is all we seek. Is there no more to say? Can our song, once more, we hear?"