Dead flowers in the corner of your room Sweep them up with your grandmother's old broom Oh babe I thought I knew ya But all I did was screw ya Dead poets are just ghosts in the hall Writing letters in the middle of the fall Oh babe he was a good man I wish he'd seen this new land one last time Passing glances are just letters in the mail Return to sender while they're running in the hail Oh babe I tried to warn ya When it rains in California Dead presidents are just paper in your purse You wanna love me but it just might be a curse Oh babe I'm running from ya Cause lover I once loved ya in my mind