I still can hear the sound
From when the cellar doors swing open
I spent a lifetime in that basement
I spent so many nights alone
Tracing the cracks in the brittle plaster
Pieces of green, they crumble off the walls
It all seems like ancient history
But so easy to revisit it all
I still heard a ghost
Lurking in the crawl space
Never stuck my head in there to check
Garden left overgrowing with marigolds
Did they rebloom after I left
After I left
And itβs all perfectly the same
Delicate, preserved, like a memorial display
I still can hear the sound
From when the cellar doors swing open
I spent a lifetime in that basement
I spent so many nights alone
Itβs all the same
Enduring purpose, all thatβs different is the face
Youβre still the same
Eighteen months and not a single detail out of place