Ah! The ties of the golden age have been razed,
Removed by the sharp double edged razor of time,
The whole period swings before my invisible eyes,
The memories spring up like impatient mushrooms,
I told you I'd leave a light on,
In case you ever wanted to come back home.
You smiled and said you appreciate the gesture.
I took your every word to heart,
Do you know about this house?
How it stands quietly, like a mouse?
It once was beautiful, it once was great.
When it was built, they called it "first rate".
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a p*or old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.