How firm is that upon which we have built
If when the house is cold the floorboards creak
Is that the sound of sublimated guilt
Or is our whole foundation truly weak
Perhaps my correlation is unsound
I don’t belong to any building trade
I only feel the shifting of the ground
When I’m alone or when I’ve been betrayed
Beneath the house, while guests are up above
I hold my hammer ready with a nail
Convinced that what I do, I do for love
Concerned that reinforcing too may fail
At least at last I’m firmly boarded in
And no one hears me cry above the din

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