Justin Courtney Pierre
House Of Strangers
Well, I'm leaning on what's left of what
Has been and still to come
And the present tense eludes all sense
And haunts this native son
There's a truth or two or three or four
Depends on where you stand
You can be a multitude of things
My lovely ampersand
We're not a house of strangers anymore
No cobweb takes a chance upon our door
There's a hope I horde and hold on to
It comforts like a song
That you'll find the spark that guides you through
The dark before I'm gone
We're not a house of strangers anymore
With chosen crest of black upon our door
From Letras Mania