There’s a house at the end of the road That remembers everything wrong It keeps the pictures but changes the faces And plays the same old song The mirrors know a different story The walls have learned to lie Every room has got a secret Every clock has lost its time Someone moves the furniture at midnight Someone changes every name You wake up holding someone else’s memory And they tell you you’re to blame The house keeps breathing The house keeps score Every time you find the truth It builds another door And nobody screams Nobody runs They just sit around the table Like nothing has been done There’s a woman in the kitchen Smiling at an empty chair She says, “Everything is normal” But there’s nobody sitting there She pours a cup of coffee For a man who disappeared Then she turns toward the doorway And says, “Why are you still here?” The hallway keeps getting longer Every photograph turns black You walk toward the front door But the hallway brings you back There’s a name beneath the wallpaper There’s a heartbeat in the floor Something underneath the house Keeps scratching at the door And when you finally open it There’s nothing there at all Just another perfect hallway And another empty wall The house keeps breathing The house keeps score Every time you find the truth It builds another door And nobody screams Nobody runs They just sit around the table Like nothing has been done Then one night the house goes silent Not a whisper, not a sound And every locked room opens All at once without a hand The mirrors stop pretending The photographs turn white And every voice that lived inside them Starts speaking through the night Not loudly. Not angrily. Just one sentence Over and over: “You knew.” And suddenly the house is empty. No footsteps. No voices. No lies. Just the walls. And for the first time... the walls don't remember.
