There was a house up on a hill that I once lived in
The ivy stretched a hundred inches high.
The winter isn’t cold when you’re beside the fire,
The snowfall cannot bite when you’re inside.

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There was a tree that grew a mile in each direction,
The birdsong in the branches never ceased.
But you were always fond of the magnolia,
But all that’s left of that’s a fallen leaf.

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There’s a light on in the backroom,
If I strain my eyes.
A television blaring but it’s static.
They’ve changed the purple curtains in my bedroom.
They’ve changed the blue wallpaper in the attic.

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And all that’s left’s a fallen autumn leaf;
No, it never did grow back
After the grief.