The sky opens up before your eye And the rain comes pouring from the sky. There's an old tree tap-tap-tapping on the door; It's that tap-tap-tapping you abhor. The faucet's drip-drip-dripping in a sink that's never clean When the landlord's knock-knock-knocking on a door without a screen. The television's crack-crack-crackling because the picture's never clear; There's the Bible on a table that'll soon break down, you fear. The mattress creak-creak-creaking as you shift in bed at night Beside an old and grimy window never showing any light. Day in, day out, you sit beside a fire with no heat; Chopping wood with those old arms would be quite a feat. The ceiling beams are wormy, and eaten up with time, But they just may be strong enough to hold a woven line. Loft it up and over, yes, and tie it good and tight. You won't be sleeping in this hell-hole by tomorrow night. A rickety chair beneath you may not hold up long enough To slip the cord over your head and feel its texture, rough Against your skin; tightening it slowly as you pray, 'Dear Lord, may you guide me to a new and better day.