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.