What is a House
It’s on borrowed time, borrowed money And the squeeze is on Soon it won’t be Your place And You’ll be a renter for the rest of Your Life
What is a House
What is a house which is not a home
A place You’ve drifted in to
A box to deposit Your stuff
And sleep strangely for a few years
To sleep long and deep so You don’t dream
And when You dream You can’t remember
And then You wake up in a place that has different walls
And is too yellow or off colour
Or perhaps it’s an apartment not different from the past 3 or 4 apartments in which You live
No One lives there with You
So the house never becomes a home
And sometimes People get divorced and One ends up leaving
Or both
Sometimes a place You’ve lived for near 20 years
You’re booted out and the memories disappear quickly and forever
It was a Home, now it’s a house, a box with a backyard
And then You realize that no dwelling is special or free
It’s on borrowed time, borrowed money
And the squeeze is on
Soon it won’t be Your place
And You’ll be a renter for the rest of Your Life and They will own everything
And Your books and television may be the last item that’s Yours and Yours alone.
Maybe, and it can’t all turn around
And You’re never given Your shot
The big shots don’t much like You
So it’s a free for all over the scraps and dustbin
If You had a House that You earned, that You shared, that You loved—it would be Yours
And it would Keep Good and Well