Below the belt of this old house, it’s cold
Numb and still, and finally, got old
It doesn’t have a creak or moan
There are no stairs in this old home
And in the footsteps, no stories will be told
But the top of this old house, it shines bright
Its restless light won’t allow the night
Electricity-you hear its hum
It can’t switch off, it’s always on
This lonely one, just won’t give up the fight
The action is all happening upstairs
There’s a ghost that sits up there and dares
To dream of things that never came to pass
Of memories, that still hold hard and fast
It’s firing on all cylinders-don’t look down
Hopes and goals could still come back to town
Love could wipe the tears away
Of manic, laughing clowns this day
That in the past, were only going to drown
It happened in the attic, that cold night
Thieves planned to steal, and leave, without a fight
They had thought the job would be
oh, so soft
They hadn’t bargained
on the old one, in the loft
Now inventions, are created, thick and fast
They’ll see the flames explode the attic glass
The sparks they fly, and shake the building too
And they’ll be fireworks for anyone in view
The thieves didn’t get a chance
to steal
And rub on open wounds
that never learned to heal
Now, inside the attic,
there’s a glow
And the warmth into the house,
begins to flow
And bring back life into the soul,
that they all said,
was abandoned, boarded up, and left for dead.
Things In My Head 