You don't hear footsteps on the ceiling,
or get a strange sinking feeling.
There's no bodies buried under boards.
No, I'm the one who opened all the drawers.
The only thing that haunts this house is me.
When I say two words three times, the reflection's always mine.
The only thing that haunts this house is me.
My father looks at me differently,
and I still wonder why no one wants my name on the lease.
Life's fleeting, they say.
I'm just depressing these days,
got me acting like a sprinkler in the rain.
I use metaphors to write about what I really should say aloud.
Wish I could piss on a strip to see what's really going on inside of me.