| The room nobody lives in
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| Is up the stairs and four doors down the hall
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| And no one ever goes there
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| Except for linens when the family comes to call
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| The room nobody lives in
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| Is always empty but immaculately clean
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| And all is softly silent
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| Except for buzzings of the flies between the screens
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| But there’s a feeling even breathing in the air
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| Like there’s someone, when there’s no one even there
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| And I’m hearing the cheers for the heroes
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| Of scenes going down in this room for so many years
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| But now nobody goes there
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| For forty years or so this room has been alone
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| And starving for a moment
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| Completely human and completely all her own
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| The room nobody lives in is up the stairs
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| And four doors down the hall |