HOUSE OF BROKEN DREAMS
 

The house of broken dreams,

Sits on a lonely dead end street.

Weeds growin' 'tween the cracks,

Of the broken concrete.
 

The sky is cold and gray.

And the paint is chippin' away.

The hinges on the front gate squeak,

When the wind makes it swing.
 

Don't go through that gate.

Don't walk down the path,

To the house of broken dreams.

You might find that this estate,

Is the aftermath,

Of all the lost hopes,

And all the broken dreams.
 

Don't ring that bell.

Don't open that door.

This house of broken dreams,

Is filled to overflow.
 

Don't open that window.

Don't look behind the curtain.

Don't look you might see.

That this house of broken dreams,

I am certain, is filled to capacity.
 

Don't open that closet.

Don't rummage through the tears of sorrow.

That are on deposit.

Stored away for another tomorrow.
 

Don't walk up the banister.

To where the house is sinister.

Don't go into that room.

Where the unfulfilled lives are entombed.
 

Stay away from the house of broken dreams.

It's not your silent screams you want to hear,

Coming out of there.
 

Stay away from the house of broken dreams.

It's not the place you want to live in.
 

Or a place you want to give in to.
 

House of broken dreams.

Copyright © 1993 by Alexander McDonald

All rights reserved.