Agatha

The house sat empty for ten years
A waste crystal chandelier
The long still halls of breathless air
Incorporate dust of life in layers
Each act baked in the straw and clay
Of ninety years of day by day
Walls must retain an image of
The spark that stirs within them
Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, oh
Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, oh
I was fourteen, they bought the home
Just old enough to stay alone
The biggest chair, the smoky skin
I sat like stone and drew it in
The floors that creak, the pipes that pound
And underneath, one other sound
An angry hum; of a hard rain
That made me fear the stairs up
Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, oh
Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, oh
The void past crowded with events
Spills out into the present tense
Purges upon the child at night
And recedes with the daylight tide
Each year I grow, each day I think
Of when I felt the breath of wings
Above my chair, around my neck
It wanted to devour me
Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, oh
Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha, Agatha...
Agatha! (Agatha, Agatha, Agatha...)
Agatha! (Agatha, Agatha, Agatha...)
Agatha! (Agatha, Agatha, Agatha...)
Agatha! (Agatha, Agatha, Agatha...)