has a broken bone.
A dysfunctional limb, an aching muscle, a creaky joint.
Not this kind of joint, but a joint all the same.
Whether its a toilet that refuses to flush;
Or a shower curtain purchased when low of cash.
The creaking floorboards;
The bathroom black molds;
The scally kitchen sink;
Sinead’s pink room, that’s now nothing, but just all pink.
Every house has a broken bone.
Its the dubious smells;
A stained fruit basket;
The discoloured carpet;
Which three years ago.
Was bought only for show.
We love(d) wine;
Well, now your eatery looks like grime.
Every house, most definitely;
Has a broken bone.
The tap that stopped to work.
The letter box that’s gotta give a shake.
Madly rattling away in the wind.
Like a 50 year old priest who’s eloped and sinned
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