There is a house in London
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Where even in winter time
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the windows are always open wide
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There is a house in London
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Where incense burns at all hours
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concealing a much less pleasant smell
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A sour stench that mingles with
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the scent of burning oil
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There in Melrose Avenue
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so many guests come and go
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some come to stay
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Some of the guests come to stay
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At one hundred ninety five
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so many people come and go
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but too many guests come to stay
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Neatly lined under the boards of the floor
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Summertime
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the maggots are crawling everywhere
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smoke can't keep the flies away
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Dennis finds harder to tidy up the house
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Tossing salt upon the rotten flesh
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wiping it away to rid the bodies of worms
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extracting bowels, liver, heart, and lungs
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dissecting corpses, packing limbs and head
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to carry them easily to their funeral pyre
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Under The Boards
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| Stormlord |
