They Called that A Sad House

Verse 1
Saw it sittin’ off the shoulder,
Where the mesquite meets the sky,
Wood bones bleached by the summer,
And the years just passin’ by.
A porch swing hangs like a memory,
Crooked frame, and barely there,
But once it held a mother’s laughter,
And the scent of sun-dried hair. Verse 2
Shutters flap like distant echoes,
Of kids runnin' wild through fields of rye,
Boot prints long since swallowed
By the dust of time gone dry.
A rusted sign leans weary,
“County Line — No. 23,”
Where a man once built his heaven,
For a woman and three. Chorus
But love don’t always stay where it was planted,
Sometimes roots break loose and float away,
That house still hums a hymn, so faint, so haunted,
Of what lived there…
What died there…
And what couldn’t bear to stay. Verse 3
There’s a cradle in the attic,
And a Bible split and torn,
With a name that time keeps whisperin’—
Still carved on the old barn door.
She left after the second storm,
When the wind took more than trees,
And he drank the silence nightly
Down to his knees. Bridge
Now wildflowers bloom where the garden lay,
And coyotes howl where the children played,
The house just watches, won’t look away,
As if it still hopes they'll come back someday. Chorus
But love don’t always stay where it was planted,
Sometimes hearts give out or lose their way,
That house still breathes a truth, so soft, enchanted,
Of what lived there…
What died there…
And what couldn’t bear to stay. Outro
So I tip my hat to ghosts and cedar,
And roll the window halfway down,
Whisper “Amen” to the past,
And drive on through that one-lane town.
But I swear I heard a lullaby
Driftin’ through the clay…
From the shell of love
That lived there…
And finally drifted away.