And here's a thought
A secret thing
Fate that this old house can sing
Underneath the weight of god
Standing for the will of men
You'll come for dinner
Listen good
Songs for all that lived in it
The years it stood
And here's a bunch
An empty fix
Memories will not exist
Only in the room upstairs
Where she slept and slept some more
In ending rafters, the patient wood
A goal still hiding, had seen so many,
Go before in the years it stood
Engine flame
Will take you away
Where is away?
It's wavering
You're wavering
A gift is given
Repeated now
The passive torture of smoke and wood
It brings a perfect linger
The years it stood