For ten weeks now number three stood empty

Nobody thought there would be

Family laughter behind the windows

Or a christmas tree.

Then a couple from up north

Sorrow and his wife arrived

Before the sun had left the streets

They were living inside.



Then before too long







The street it rang with the sound

From number three there came a cry

S. f. sorrow is born.



The sunlight of his days

Was spent in the grey of his mind

As he stole love with a tongue of lies

The world is shrinking in size.