A Small Town Called Greendale Street
When I moved to my house,
it was a mess.
the floors were pale,
the walls were stale,
the pool was frozen,
there was a dead possum in it.
We hired a guy to fix the floors.
When he was done,
we painted the walls.
Then after that,
the house was perfect,
a little shelter for us to stay in.
As the days went on,
the house stayed strong.
Our poor dog died,
and then we cried.
Across the street there was a kid,
I hung out with him in my home.
The house was good.
The best part was,
my family and my friends.