In a country house with the windows lit by burning wicks
And the walls held up by wood and bricks and ghosts that wander through
An old man died, but the help won’t come till monday next
And he’s gone to meet the architects of the only world he knew
And he’s lonesome
And the family mourned, at the wake he lay in front of them
Just as silent as he’d ever been to any young child’s eyes
And by buried skin, they shed their laughter and their tears
The pain of all those early years where innocence had died
But now they’re lonesome
Memorials that we may build
They won’t the holes forever fill
There is a deep and aching chill
That settles in our bones
’Cause we’re lonesome
Did you ever love somebody?
Did you ever lose someone?
’Cause we’re lonesome
In a country house with the windows all lit up
