The Man and His House

There was a man who loved his house dearly.

He grew up in this house, he lived in it all his life.

The inside was torn up, ruined, and wrecked,

Yet on the outside it was always bright, as if it was just bought.

The man loved to rock back and forth on the porch.

The house was empty, although it wasn’t always like this.

Back then he used to have all his friends over to his house,

Those were the days he looked over fondly.

Now, however,

His friends could no longer come over.

He was only 18 in 1914,

He spent 4 years of his life in fear.

Now it’s all over, he shouldn’t worry anymore.

He doesn’t think about it anymore.

At least, he’ll tell you he doesn’t anymore.

The wallpaper is all ripped up and scattered,

The house is frozen,

The tables are wobbly,

The furniture is torn apart,

There’s blood all over the place,

There’s screaming and crying,

My friends are all dead,

I can’t feel my legs,

I haven’t been able to sleep,

I haven’t been able to eat,

I just needed a job,

I thought this would be an adventure,

God..please let me live.

The old man woke up,

He tried to sway in his rocking chair to relax.

Now that’s all he can do, that’s all he’ll ever do.

Some people would walk by,

‘What a nice house that is’ they’d all say.

The walls were freshly painted,

The tiles on the roof looked as if they had just been laid,

The porch was freshly waxed.

If you walked by you’d never be able to tell,

This house was a wreck inside.

There was a man who loathed his house greatly,

He died in this house, he’s lived in it all his life.