Her footsteps echo like a sonic, boom, bouncing off the walls of her silent tomb, splitting the air and amplifying the gloom of this house, this house, this house of empty rooms
Where she lived and raised a family is now an empty shell of what used to be, repository of memories that fade away too soon, from this house of empty rooms
And she cries, how could he leave her so all alone, after 40 years together in
their stone and brick home, but cancer never discriminates , be it destiny or be it fate, for that Grim Reaper is never late, so patiently he looms, looms in houses of empty room, where widows cry and ruminate about life and love and fickle fate, and why the ones they love are taken away too soon , from houses of empty rooms, houses of empty rooms
Where love and laughter once had ruled. There’s sorrow now, a silent gloom, the infinite grief of an infertile womb is this house, this house this house of empty rooms
Where widows cry and ruminate about life and love and fickle fate, and why the ones they love are taken away too soon from houses of empty rooms
And so she’s lost in her sorrow, lost in her pain, knowing she’ll never see him again, and learned a house is not a home when the ones you love leave you all alone, and sometimes at night restlessly she roams tho silent halls of her haunted home, lured by the pull of a sirens call whispering to her through those thick walls, praying for sleep as dark shadows fall , as they fall, fall, fall on houses of empty rooms
Where ghosts and spirits of years gone by haunt the spaces that testify to the story of our lives, The story of our lives that fade away too son, from houses of empty rooms, houses of empty rooms, houses of empty rooms.
