There's an old house up on Jennings Street
In a yard so overgrown, you can't see your feet
A vine grows up the side and a shed near the back
With a door that doesn't meet the frame and track.
A hole in the roof, houses a family of Bluejays
Who chirp and play as the world passes by
Babies jumping off that same roof, learning to fly
Untaxed by the society seen in people eyes.
Some say it's haunted, others say just condemned
But inside those cryptic walls is a place few have been
Once you've entered, time stands very still
Every creak tells a story and the air is thinner with a chill.
Musk and dust cover where a family thrived,
Before this technology that made us so unalive.
I wouldn't dare to move a single thing
I bring only what my eyes recall.
This place was not my place, not even my time
In a body I only borrow, who am I to call anything mine?
Others blinded by greed, believe they are owed this history
So as I left this house I locked the door, to save the mystery.
There's an old house on Jennings Street
Leave it be, it's perfect.