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You accuse me of fancy talk When I'm just trying to find my words You've got a funny way of saying my name Like I just ripped it off These whiskey tango ghosts Won't leave us alone But you are too polite to complain Of the art of speaking plain I haven't gathered a thing While I know, we're dug in deep here Why can't we live high with the wind You're just a freckle away from changing everything I'll make this easy by calling on my gypsy pedigree These whiskey tango ghosts Won't leave us alone Of the art of speaking plain I haven't gathered a thing While I know we're dug in deep here Why can't we live high with the wind? Can't we live? Of the art of making waves I had my lesson in spades And these ghosts they make it plain They're never going away And my ghost she makes it plain I haven't gathered a thing Though I know, we're dug in deep here Why can't we live high with the wind? Can't we live?