A few empty walls, a table, some chairs; a desk, couch and a bed
Not even a frame, little more than a name, just a place to lay my head
Then you came along and filled it with song and once barren white walls
Carry a tune, hold onto you: a smile in a shadow each time I pass through
Your lopsided grin, a shrug and a strut, little moments of memories just between us
A strand of your hair, crumbs everywhere, the cushions still dent as if letting you in
You’re etched in the seams and they possess no need for me;
Nor me for them without you in-between, as I call it a night, and lie by memory’s side
Remembering how you couldn’t sleep if you weren’t touching me
My hand reaches for you, what more can I do, the next memory found
A soft little sound, you on the couch, watching tv, cause I sleep too loud
I take your hand, slow back to bed, my shoulder your head, as we fall asleep
As I wake again and find I’m remiss, because you’re not here, just in my dreams
Etched in the seams, a part of every piece, in each little fiber, of this haunted house.