Full Disclosure

Now, under the terms of full disclosure
I am required to tell you
That the house's previous occupants
Were a married couple
And they were very unhappy

Oh no, they didn't kill themselves
Or each other
Or anything like that

God no, of course not
What an awful thing to suggest

No, they were just terribly unhappy
Both of them
Just miserable

With themselves
With each other

They probably would have murdered themselves
Or each other
Or whomever happened to be passing by
But they were also cowardly people

So instead they stayed in a loveless marriage
Until they died
Here
In this house
Within an hour of each other

They found him on the porch
Writing a letter to his wife
That said--

'I've always hated you'

And she was upstairs in the bedroom
Reading a book called--

'What to Do When You've Spent Your Life with the Wrong Man'

I'm not sure what advice
The book gives
But needless to say
She was never able to implement it
Because she died in her bed
With the biggest frown on her face
You have ever seen

And now the house reeks of misery

Oh, I don't think it's haunted by ghosts
I don't believe in ghosts

No, what I'm talking about
Is this sort of feeling
That floats in the air

The feeling that unhappy people lived here

Fought here
Cried here
Felt trapped here
And then just died

Sometimes I think people overflow with sadness
So much so that it pours out
Into their surroundings

And that's what I think
Happened here

. . . . .

So!

Do you still want to see that Colonial
On Davidson Street
Or should I show you the upstairs bedroom
Where the children they never had
Might have lived
Had they had them

Of course

That's what I thought