I moved to Philadelphia two years ago and, as one of the oldest cities in the United States, it seems to propagate a tireless, aching nostalgia. Cobblestone roads still exist, colonial architecture neighbors high-rises, and the signs of gentrification are visible under the awnings of their original storefronts. This city, like all cities, is filled with ghosts. About a year after I moved to Philly, I couldn’t sleep well and every night would wake-up at 3 AM, the witching hour. I am a musician, and wrote a song about this haunting. The song is my ghost story to Philadelphia. This is the original paper I wrote the lyrics for the song.
Tired of waking up 3 AM // knowing no one’s really there // burn some palo santo to pro // tect me from me tell me // why do I fear everything real