Guest
Down on the corner of Scattesby Way There's a quaint little house without much to say For outside its walls there's no story to tell But enter inside and witness its hell Once you come in things soon become clear there's something quite wrong, though there's nothing to fear The father is harmless or rather I should say Legless, depressed and in a state of decay His phantom limbs dangle awkwardly down Never quite able to reach the ground And his smile has faded, long wiped from his face From the day that he
