Some fires never seem to burn, some lessons I guess I never learned Sit in this house and stare at these walls, killing time until Jesus makes the call And I'm cold, oh, and I'm growing old Truth be told, that woman she stole my soul, and left me to live with the ghost Some nights, I swear I hear her call, in the kitchen or maybe down the hall Pour me a glass, swallow this hurt. Hanging around until they put me in the dirt And I'm cold, oh, and I'm growing old Truth be told, that woman she stole my soul, and left me to live with the ghost And I'm cold, oh, and I'm growing old Truth be told, that woman she stole my soul, and left me to live with the ghost She left me to live with the ghost