All abstract medallions are filled in bright

On ceilings the paint peels about the lights

The struggling walls crumbling to rubble inside

If this house was a body

The kitchen is the atrium

The heart that holds the dishes

And everything that we’ve been in

The rabble of phantoms laugh down the halls

Heard under old rafters, I miss them all

We crowd around, ebullient, not close enough

If this house was a body

The kitchen is the atrium

The heart that holds the dishes

And evеrything that we’ve been in

This house is our friеndship

That we’ve kept outside it

The kitchen’s still got dishes

Our home is where the heart lives

This house is our friendship

That we’ve kept outside it

The kitchen’s still got dishes

Our home is where the heart lives