Renovations
When I was a kid, I walked through the city,
And I’d pass this decrepit house,
That could have seen a hundred years and then some.
Her paint was predominately peeling,
Her windows were either broken or boarded up,
And her shingles were in shambles.
Everyone thought she was an eye sore,
But I thought she was beautiful.
She was the old left in a world of new,
And every day I’d hear her creak and moan,
And cry desperately for a hero to rescue her.
And I’d pass this decrepit house,
That could have seen a hundred years and then some.
Her paint was predominately peeling,
Her windows were either broken or boarded up,
And her shingles were in shambles.
Everyone thought she was an eye sore,
But I thought she was beautiful.
She was the old left in a world of new,
And every day I’d hear her creak and moan,
And cry desperately for a hero to rescue her.
When my hands were not as soft,
I decided it was time for some renovations.
I worked my fingers to the bone,
Trying to recapture her lost beauty,
But the damage was much worse than I imagined.
Her body was gnawed endlessly by termites,
Boys threw stones at her windows just to hear the glass shatter,
And every day a new profanity was sprayed across her walls.
I decided it was time for some renovations.
I worked my fingers to the bone,
Trying to recapture her lost beauty,
But the damage was much worse than I imagined.
Her body was gnawed endlessly by termites,
Boys threw stones at her windows just to hear the glass shatter,
And every day a new profanity was sprayed across her walls.
One day I finally arrived with an arsenal of tools and an army of contractors,
But where the house had stood, there was only rubble.
The city council had demolished a whole world,
As a part of their new beautification project.
Without even a door knob left to bury,
The air smelled of burned photo albums.
But where the house had stood, there was only rubble.
The city council had demolished a whole world,
As a part of their new beautification project.
Without even a door knob left to bury,
The air smelled of burned photo albums.
Now, years later, if I could change one thing, it would be me.
I would change me, so that I could believe again,
That I had the power to change anything at all.
I would change me, so that I could believe again,
That I had the power to change anything at all.
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