The floor, the walls, the ceiling,
the stones, the walls, the roof,
the doors, the windows, the bricks,
all of them, I conceived myself.
The floor, scratched by the nails,
the walls, saturated with shouting,
the ceiling, so oppressive and low,
Here I live, here I feel free.
No one sees you, no one can hear you,
you never leave again.
now you are a guest in my house
House of Pain
The doors, run inside,
no guests of mine find escape,
however much they writhe and divide,
I live here, this is my home.
I love the sound of that silence
that follows, when a life is trickling out,
I am then so tranquil and happy,
a happy, playful child.
No one sees you, no one can hear you,
you never leave again.
now you are a guest in my house
House of Pain