The Microphones
Hot Chocolate
Road that goes from her house to my house
Darkened by the long gone sunset
Trees hang over and make it even darker
I pass by them every single time

There's a ghost that lives right above me
Floating dead but never been alive
Not a boy or girl and only at night
Scrapes my tummy out, makes it hollow
She fills me up like drinking hot chocolate
Sweet and warm and she's my honey
When I have to go home, we're both so sad
After that, I'm awfully lonely