That Old House - 2013/06/18

It stands strong against ravages of time
Resisting a hard wind which will prevail
Within the hearth we count our blessings
As those left behind pray to see it fail

Unwashed, unkept and without any ability
Fucking haters staring through the fence
Sucking down the precious oxygen we have
Nasty sons of bitches won't even pay rent

Upon inspection the paint seems chipped
A quaint white picket fence is splitting
And with a clogged and leaky septic tank
The front yard itself seems to be shitting

Laughter wafts in hitching on poisoned air
Through gaping holes busted in sheet glass
Deaf occupants living inside seem unaware
That the fucking dream simply cannot last

Plotting and scheming doesn't mean shit
Only a few realize it don't matter a bit
Hurricane force gales come from the east
Planting the seeds for their future feast

Toss that can of gasoline and the matches
It's time to light this fucking bitch up
One way or another it appears inevitable
That life within the house will soon erupt

Many years later the story of this house
Will be forgotten for better or for worse
Our ability to forget about the hard wind
Is as much a blessing as it is a curse