This house is and ancient tomb
Be warned,
Be warned,
Be warned.
Born in 1974
With the blood stains on the door.

This house is a monument
You see,
You see,
You see.
Erect in 1983 
In memory of what you’ve done to me.

This house is a freight train 
And it’s mine,
And it’s mine,
And it’s mine.
Back in 1989 
They found my body
On the Morris–Essex line.

A cord, accord,
A car, a call
The hospital said it would
Gladly repay it all.
I’m born, I’m bored,
I’m not at all.
This body Needs an Overhaul.

The blast from the cannon
Was more than 
They could take.
Ever since that summer
They’ve been something of a flake.
We pray for them at dinner,
We pray for them at dawn,
We pray that when they grow up
That they’ll be dead and gone
We pray that they will
Pass us by
But they keep coming on.

Wake up I’m coming over.

Watch the way the milk has curdled in the cradle.
There’s a rattle underneath the kitchen table.
Were ignoring it as best 
As we are able.
But the air in there is static and unstable.

There’s a rapping at the door.