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Kris Demeanor
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This Old House
In 1910 they laid the foundation, imprinted the date in the sidewalk cement
This old house, the dream of the town's first policeman
He picked out the straight beams of fir for the frame for himself
Retirement was not his speed, and the backroom became the best unliscenced bait shop around
And the pit where he dumped all the fish ends and dead bits of bait to this day fertilizes the ground
It was well known that while on the beat, beating the drink out of native boys suited his style
Revenge came late but sweet, he was found with a rigging hook sunk in the roof of his mouth
This old house breeds and this old house speaks
While this old house lasts it reeks of the past
The railyard men were set up in company flats so close to the tracks they were up all night
The squeal of the steel boiled in their brains and needed a vent when the slower times came
This old house lay two stone throws away, possessed by a lame petty thug and his mom
I don't want to know what goes on downstairs, but it feels like a family when you boys come
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The last hand was out, and a rookie won big, and the mood had turned foul, and he thought best to share
He forked out five bills on two higher class girls
Whose bodies were found ten days later downstream
This old house breeds...
'Pikachu' is the name of that terrier, yapping downstairs, outside pissing all over our feet
And the metallic Trans Am with the novelty plate 'Jack Me Off' in our parking spot out in the street
Me and my girl in our character home renting the mainfloor of this old house
Come back to the lights, the vans and the tape, surrounding the scene of the homicide
The neigbours were short order cooks, their schizophrenic drinking friend screwed off his meds in the night
My girl said; 'Think of them stabbed in their beds, and likely us here making love while they died'
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