In a house on a hill lie the remnants of a life
gone without a rhyme or reason and nobody asks why
There are letters half written and opened books half read
but nobody's there to finish any page that was left
It's outlived everyone who once planted on its ground
They once filled its rooms with music; now there isn't a sound
No one seems to know why they each fell from its mound
or why no one's left to climb the steps that lead to the house on the hill
There's a house on a hill that, through every change, stays blind
with its grand facade untarnished, standing frozen in time
like a ghost that's still waiting for someone to return
But the keyless doors they left through locked behind in the house on the hill
