jittering pleasantly in the street we watched the house we loved fill up with strangers' things there's a needle-eyed baron peering at my windowsill, he's taking measurements of my room guess now he pays the electric bill he throws my furniture out to the street i kick his stupid car ask him does he know where his kids sleep sorry window sun on coarse blonde hair prisms bending light upstairs i watch her work my friends outside break a glass, won't say goodbye sorry