We gave you all the hopes we couldn't share and a fraction of the air 
We held on to the strips of what was right to the fading rays of light 
But these rooms are full of ghosts of the memories of the ones we hate 
The most hell you grew up pretty easily I'm sure mary queen of Arkansas 
It's too early for the dreaming or the stars and it's too late for the bars 
But these rooms are full of ghosts these rooms are full of ghosts of the memories 
Of the ones we hate the most these rooms are full of ghosts of the pictures 
Of the hosts these rooms are full of ghosts of the memories of the ones we hate the most