The Lights, the bulb, this street lame so cold, scattered and old.

     These roads are cracked, hurt and black

Rocks that lead a path, good or bad

     But this house, so neat, unique

it's frame to sweet, but the inside so weak, broken, no sleep.

     Sounds of crying, weeping, cussing, and beatings.

Next room, next who?

     Sister, brother, how 'bout mother, whoever.

That stranger, those monsters, all in one kitchen, stacked up dirty dishes.

     She whispers "Close your eyes, it's just that tough,

go away bad stuff,

  mommy is just having fun,

    nothing wrong with a couple of sniffs and we're all done,

      go to sleep dear child and take your sister to the room,

        next to the window near the moon,

         sing her a lullaby and rest your eyes,

'cause by sunlight we could have all died.