This house is and ancient tomb
Be warned,
Be warned,
Be warned.
Born in 1974
With the blood stains
on the door.

This house is a monument
You see,
You see,
You see.
Erect in 1983
In memory of
what you’ve done to me.

This house is a freight train
And it’s mine,
And it’s mine,
And it’s mine.
Back in 1989
They found my body
On the Morris–Essex line.

A cord, accord,
A car, a call
The hospital said it would
Gladly repay it all.
I’m born, I’m bored,
I’m not at all.
This body Needs an Overhaul.

The blast from the cannon
Was more than
They could take.
Ever since that summer
They’ve been something
of a flake.
We pray for them at dinner,
We pray for them at dawn,
We pray that when they
grow up
That they’ll be dead and gone
We pray that they will
Pass us by
But they keep coming on.

Wake up I’m coming over.

Watch the way the milk
has curdled in the cradle.
There’s a rattle underneath
the kitchen table.
Were ignoring it as best
As we are able.
But the air in there is
static and unstable.

Theres a rapping
at the door.