| There’s an old child’s swing set on the lawn
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| And an ivied wall lured by the years
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| A neckerchiefed spaniel patrols the swamp
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| And drinks from the garden of our tears
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| There are many rooms and many floows
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| A billion up and a billion down
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| I’m not sure God knows we’re here
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| Most nights it keeps to itself
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| There’s a widow’s wing and an unloved wing
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| On the unwanted floor towards the rear
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| I’ve tried to memorise their names
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| But no sooner one dies than another appears
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| There were bible verses all down the halls
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| But they soon got replaced with explicit cartoons
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| There are lipstick marks on all our collars
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| And the sign on the gate reads 'Come Back Soon'
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| We all do our best to keep it clean
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| But some guy’s minds are like a sieve
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| Sometimes it’s a little hard to sleep at night
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| In the house where we all live
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| Now when I walk the grounds at dawn
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| I hear the sounds of far off bells
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| I lay my feet out in the reeds
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| And dream of being somewhere else
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| So boy, next time you are in town
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| Just ring the bell and I’ll let you in
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| I don’t think you’re going to need directions —
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| Just ask for the house where we all live |