(no subject)
This house is an ancient tomb
Be warned, be warned, be warned.
Born in 1984 with the blood stains on the door.
This house is a monument
You see, you see, you see.
Erect in 1983
In memory of what you’ve done to me.
This house is a freight train
And it’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine.
Back in 1989
They found my body on the Morris-Essex line.
A cord, accord
A car, a call
The hospital said it would gladly repay it all
I’m born, I’m bored, I’m not at all
This body needs an overhaul.
The blast from the cannon
Was more than they could take.
Ever since that summer
They’ve been something of a flake.
We pray for them at dinner,
We pray for them at dawn,
We pray that when they grow up
That they’ll be dead and gone
We pray that they will pass us by
But they keep coming on.
Wake up, I’m coming over.
Watch the way the milk has curdled in the cradle
There’s a rattle underneath the kitchen table
We're ignoring it as best as we are able
But the air in there is static and unstable
There's a rapping at the door.