Feeding a Ghost
Slow-burn indie song inspired by post-rock dynamics with a female vocal. Starts extremely minimal with a single repeating note or ambient texture. Gradual, patient buildup without a clear chorus. Cinematic and heavy atmosphere. Female vocals are intimate, restrained, emotionally exhausted, close to the microphone, never belting or screaming. Emotional intensity increases through layering, not volume. Dark, haunting, existential tone. Slow tempo, long-form structure, unresolved ending
Feeding a Ghost
Slow-burn indie song inspired by post-rock dynamics with a female vocal. Starts extremely minimal with a single repeating note or ambient texture. Gradual, patient buildup without a clear chorus. Cinematic and heavy atmosphere. Female vocals are intimate, restrained, emotionally exhausted, close to the microphone, never belting or screaming. Emotional intensity increases through layering, not volume. Dark, haunting, existential tone. Slow tempo, long-form structure, unresolved ending
Lyrics
Thinking about how easy it is for a house to catch fire when you’re not looking.
You left your favorite knife on the cutting board, still smelling like onions
A sharp, stinging reminder that life just… kept going after you walked out.
I tried to cook pasta but I forgot how many minutes it takes to feel soft
I’ve spent so long being “fed” that I forgot how to feed myself.
I’m looking at the space where the dining table was supposed to be
And I’m wondering if Elwyn and Claire would have liked the color of the walls.
I’m scrolling through your old cooking videos just to feel the heat
Watching your hands chop onions in 4K while I starve in the dark.
I almost texted your mom to ask if you’re eating enough
As if I’m not the one dying of a hunger that’s making me hallucinate.
I’m becoming a person I don’t recognize, a stranger in my own skin
Waiting for a notification to tell me I’m allowed to exist again.
It’s February 1st, and the table is set for a ghost and a liar
I’m freezing in the kitchen while you’re probably lighting someone else’s fire.
Where are the tickets? Where is the ring? Where is the man who knew my name?
Now I’m just a stranger playing a very lonely, very hungry game.
We had names for the daughters, we had a map for the years to come
Now I’m just staring at the 2026 stone, feeling cold and numb.
You were the chef, but you served me a plate of empty air
And I’m still sitting here, waiting for a person who was never there.
I can hear Elwyn crying in the room we never painted
I can see Claire looking for the father who just fainted—
In the face of a future that required him to stay.
You didn’t just walk out, you threw our entire bloodline away.
And I’m furious, I’m starving, I’m screaming at the grout
Trying to figure out what the hell 2026 was even about.
Is it a grave? Is it a stone? Is it just a Tuesday in May?
While you’re in Paris feeding someone else the things you used to say.
I tried to make toast today.
I burnt it, just like you said I would.
I guess I’m finally becoming the version of me you left behind.
I’m looking at the 2026 calendar and thinking…
What a beautiful, expensive waste of a year.
Elwyn and Claire would have hated this kitchen anyway.
It’s too cold. It’s too empty.
You were the chef.
I was just… the ingredient you forgot to include.
Still hungry.