Sop up the water lapping at the basement walls. The bricks have all gone soft. And let a breath of fresh air tear the place apart. Now their voices can pour down the stairs. One pass, you've cleaned it out. Soon a crowd is tumbling down. They're wrapping 'round your arms and legs. Is that okay with you? And for a moment it's just callow cacophony. Then, silence. No, song and singing and smiling. The darkest part of your house harbors a pillar of strength. A column wound up in vines of music. A column wound up tight in vines of music. A column wound up tight in vines of music. Concrete crumbling ceiling sagging. You've seen people you love mouth your name on the highway, as they thumbed toward your car. To be tossed underhand; Hopscotch rocks in your driveway. Where once they bumped with you into your basement walls until the ceiling sunk. Jumped up and down until you felt your stomach scrunch; Where are they now? Oh, you're better off not knowing. Yeah, you're better off. People you love cut a path to the staircase as you rush toward the door. Pick up your chalk, write their names in the driveway. And let them hold the floor instead of basement walls, hold up the house. Stick up your hand and grab a bit of basement wall, live in the now.