She floats just above the ground
whenever visitors decide to come around
from room to room she roams
when she's feeling all alone
and, she longs for the laughter that once was --
that echoed up and down her halls
her children are all gone with time and, distance
its made her spirit ache it's been so long
there's the sound of a ticking clock
(tick, tick, tock)
reminding her of a half knitted infants sock
where she remembers leaving it before she left
Oh, and she'd cry if she had any tears
but all she has is her ghost house year after year...
where she roams from room to room
(waiting, always waiting)
waiting for her children to come home soon.