The house is crooked
And so are we
We torched the place, we watched it burn
Some cried, some laughed, some tried to stop
But all were gone before too long
A strong wind comes
Most every day
To blow the dirt and dust away
The ashes of all that ever was
Are lost into the pit of clay
All through the air
A faint hum sings
The songs we sang inside the house
The wind will whisper everything
That sets apart the man from mouse