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Can't take another day in this hoarders house,

grab the bucket, begin to douse

the fire that was burning while i ran out,

to find another route.

How can a family feel so close,

yet so far apart, just froze,

stuck in the same spot, the want to smoke,

habits rooted to me like i'm the great oak.

How can he feel cleaning is wrong?

i know his time is long gone,

tallying together each and every night,

that he cleans another corner after a pointless fight.

They all said he would stubbornly stay the same,

always such a coward of the coming change,

well i'll only have this one last time,

to search for his help until, a perfect solution, i find.