Stained glass chandeliers
And shattered bedroom mirrors
Tapestries of fine brocade
Mixed with town-house charades.

Leaky faucet fallacies
An upper-middle class disease
Pop radio leaves them apathetic
Try alt-indie for aesthetics.

They will call the wallpaper charming
For well-furnished rooms are quite disarming
Smile and nod in a well-meaning act
But once they leave, feel free to attack.

You can hang Chuhuli in the kitchen
Da Vincis in bathrooms are quite bewitching
But give me a house that knows how to be
How to sleep and to sing and to sigh and to scream.

Something lovely about carpet freshly vacuumed
But who cares about designer living rooms?
A house isn't a home until it's been broken in
We call them hassocks, so long ottomans.

i didn't find G-d in study houses
when i went for him to search
nor on the lecterns of pulpit rabbis
nor neath arches of the church

i found him not amongst the folds
of priests' robes and their cassocks,
nor in design of braid and gold
of curtains and the hassocks

i didn't hear him in the cries
of prayers, no, nor their sighs
nor in the swirling of the dervish
or the mass or jumah service

but when i lifted the old man's bags,
helped a beggar in dirt and rags,
gave bread 'n shelter to the drifter,
then i heard His voice, a whisper.

I bustle along the old wooden pews,
With their splinters of wood and rusting screws,
Scurrying, hurrying, sniffing around,
Searching for food in this haven I've found,
Food is so scarce, in God's humble house,
That's why I'm so poor, a lowly church mouse.

I run free down the aisle in darkness of night,
When no one's around, not a soul in sight,
O'er well-worn inscriptions written on tombs,
Into the transept and quiet little rooms,
Rooms where old cassocks are neatly racked,
And velvety hassocks haphazardly stacked.

No one comes into this church anymore,
The bells never ring - no one opens the door,
The choir doesn't meet for practice each night,
The old vicar calling is a rare sight,
It seems they've abandoned God's lovely house,
And I'm doomed to die, a lonely church mouse.