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From the auction block to the wrecking ball, our house is sold to the dozer.
Our house is dust, wait for the wind to sweep it all away.
Our house is dust, we never held the deed anyway.
Like the rats, we follow the decay.
Fill our homes with the things they throw away.
One block behind, the new breed is moving in.
Chase out the pests.
The piper's calling us away. Now I stand atop a rubble pile that once was my home but I have saved a brick each time I watched a building fall to dust.
And I will build my own house with the bricks I've kept throughout the years, on the installment plan.
