Bus To Baton Rouge

I had to go back to that house one more time To see if Camellias were in bloom For so many reasons it's been on my mind The house on Belmont Avenue Built up on cinderblocks off of the ground What with the rain and the soft swampy land By the sweet honeysuckle that grew all around Were switches when we were bad I took a bus to Baton Rouge....etc., All the front rooms were kept closed off I never liked to go in there much Sometimes the doors they'd be locked 'Cause there were precious things I couldn't touch The company couch covered in plastic Little books about being saved The dining room table nobody ate at And the piano nobody played There was this beautiful lamp I always loved A seashore was painted on the shade It would turn around when you switched on the bulb And gently rock the waves The driveway was covered with tiny white seashells A fig tree stood in the backyard there are other things I remember, as well But to tell them would be just too hard Ghosts in the wind that blow through my life Follow me wherever I go I'll never be free from these chains inside Hidden deep down in my soul