Is she living in that suburban house,

Sheltered from the truth?

Or is the roof slowly peeling off,

As she finds more proof,

We hurt who we hurt,

For the things we must protect,

And get our Just deserve,

When the piper comes to collect,

The girls will be old enough to move on out,

And the roof will protect an empty nest,

Will the bitter truth that drips from that rusty spout,

Fill the void of your final rest?

We chose what we chose,

And mixed the cocktails we ingest,

And stare out at different shores,

At horizons that bury our regrets,

Carolina dreams, Atlantic Ocean,

Tropical delights, metropolis in constant motion,

Elixirs born of shame, vials of impotent potions,

She’ll tear down the house, when she stumbles on the notion,

-Donk