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Replying to a comment on:
Home Sweet Home (Lyric) by THE GOD OF DEATH
The phone calls echo off the walls,
No audience is found
For messages to people who
Don't like to be around.
Again, the ring resounds ignored
By stolid glaring from
The glossy picture bright with smiles
And stares to fake for fun.
No longer does the household eat
Together sharing time,
Each leaves for more important things
Pretending each is fine.
The father goes to town to work
Machining parts for cars,
And mother waits for fall of night
To clean and wipe down bars.
There's Jim who's grown to be quite big,
While sister Sue has run
Away from Podunk middle class
Where she had been undone.
So as the phone tolls on and on,
Its plaintive trill unheard,
The aging house now void of home,
Knows nothing of the word.
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