A House
There's a house I know
on a London road,
standing but now bare.
Will you come with me
to mourn the disrepair?
Once upon an evening
there was a dream of a
world so just and fair.
Will you knock on the door with me?
Will you join the sad affair?
Where does the good go?
I thought it once lived there.
What good do I know? Good question -
there's the word but perhaps it's rare.
Is this where she cried and lost her voice and hid away?
Oh god, and here she died that day.
What to say?
...
When the lightning's striking
it's oh so frightening
but I'm debonair.
Behind the curtains
one thing's for certain,
nothing could compare.
There, it's vaulted
oh, so exalted,
like a millionaire.
Will you shed a tear with me
and hold me while I care?
Where does the good go?
Where's the good that I have made?
A heartbreaking show
of good intention and hope decayed.
Is this where she cried and lost her voice and hid away?
No god was by her side that day.
...
I just hope to find her toys -
I said I'd look after their voices.
She was so scared and unprepared.
This house was not a home - always in disrepair.
Just as I recall:
wooden panelled walls,
pictures so strange
did they happen at all?
Tools under the floor,
forgotten once more.
I lay this place to rest
as I lock the backdoor.
Say her name.
So strange...
Say her name.
on a London road,
standing but now bare.
Will you come with me
to mourn the disrepair?
Once upon an evening
there was a dream of a
world so just and fair.
Will you knock on the door with me?
Will you join the sad affair?
Where does the good go?
I thought it once lived there.
What good do I know? Good question -
there's the word but perhaps it's rare.
Is this where she cried and lost her voice and hid away?
Oh god, and here she died that day.
What to say?
...
When the lightning's striking
it's oh so frightening
but I'm debonair.
Behind the curtains
one thing's for certain,
nothing could compare.
There, it's vaulted
oh, so exalted,
like a millionaire.
Will you shed a tear with me
and hold me while I care?
Where does the good go?
Where's the good that I have made?
A heartbreaking show
of good intention and hope decayed.
Is this where she cried and lost her voice and hid away?
No god was by her side that day.
...
I just hope to find her toys -
I said I'd look after their voices.
She was so scared and unprepared.
This house was not a home - always in disrepair.
Just as I recall:
wooden panelled walls,
pictures so strange
did they happen at all?
Tools under the floor,
forgotten once more.
I lay this place to rest
as I lock the backdoor.
Say her name.
So strange...
Say her name.
Credits
Writer(s): Emma Elizabeth Curry
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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