The saddest house
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in Stockholm
|
Remembers former glories
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Of views without the railway tracks
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And flats with many storeys
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Its towers were a splendour
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But now I just feel pity
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To see the broken windows
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And the walls full of graffiti
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I long to sit alone inside
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And recreate the past
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Imagining an antique clock
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That ran a little fast
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And suddenly, it's all bare boards
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And giant walls and ceiling
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Witnessing this empty shell
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That once was full of feeling
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The rain beats on the rooftop
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But the hearts alreadys topped
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The fading yellow Stockholm paint
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Around the bend bulldozers wait
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The gnashing blades of blood
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and hate
|
Anxious just to satiate
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Condemning her to her cruel fate
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Her ugliness to take his shape
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A shadow cast from his dark cape
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That dwarfs the curves and crashes
|
her gate
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Her doors will split, her stairs innate
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Dust and rubble in the grate
|
She so young, but it's too late
|
The saddest house in Stockholm
|
Settles on her rock
|
Remembers her friend
|
His fingers and hands
|
The ticking, though, has stopped.
|
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The Saddest House in Stockholm
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| Marty Willson-Piper |
