The House Next Door

The house next door is empty,
There's ghosts in every room,
They slip behind the curtains -
Their shadows grey and blue.

Its windows stare like empty eyes,
The garden's full of weeds.
The window pane rots in the rain,
The gutters stuffed with leaves.

The house next door is empty,
Its silence fills the night
Its memories slip through the cracks
Devoid of any light.

The garden wall is crumbling,
The postman never comes.
The gate is almost rusted shut,
On bins the rainfall drums.

The house next door is empty -
I'd like to make it mine.
I'd fill it full of plants and songs,
And people, food and wine.

I'd hold a massive party
And invite all the street -
The ghosts would finally move out
And just admit defeat.