six little rooms aching remnants of a home
now they lack any signs of living
and there stand packed shelves drowning in boxes full of you
underneath us lies a hazardous basement
housing specialty wine, a dryer, uncharted diseases
and a decrepit parkway sign that stood for dreams – Born to Run
you are loved, here lies the proof in piles of tattered posters
we’ll walk through streets of fire
drive all night for you
tougher than the rest
your friends, your family, they’re all here
your mom’s scrapbooks, Obie’s collection of remembrance,
even Tex and Marion who got you started back in ‘65
(when you were still trying to be the Beatles)
their love stands here
in this little house with the tub overflowing
with magazines, your famous red baseball cap
and even a small group of people dedicated to you
it’s your house, even after you’ve gone, we’ll be here
on the corner of 10th, Cedar, and E