And here's a thought   A secret thing   Fate that this old house can sing      Underneath the weight of god   Standing for the will of men      You'll come for dinner   Listen good   Songs for all that lived in it    The years it stood      And here's a bunch    An empty fix   Memories will not exist      Only in the room upstairs    Where she slept and slept some more      In ending rafters, the patient wood   A goal still hiding, had seen so many,   Go before in the years it stood      Engine flame   Will take you away   Where is away?      It's wavering   You're wavering      A gift is given   Repeated now      The passive torture of smoke and wood   It brings a perfect linger    The years it stood