And all the doors looked all the same again

He stopped at number one to sneak a look

Here he heard the clearing of ash and soot

 

And all the doors looked all the same, again

He stopped, at number four he stood once more

To inhale the smell of Vim on tiled floor

 

And, all the doors looked all the same, again

He stopped at number nine, to check the time

The cuckoo clock confirmed with lonely chime

 

And all the doors looked all the same; again.

He stopped, but quickly passed by number ten

He didn’t want to hear her being beaten 

 

And all the doors, looked all the same, again.

He stopped at the door with no number on

Shabby curtains, dark windows, life long gone

 

And all the doors looked. All; the same again.

They all stared and stared as he passed them by

Reflecting his gaze, numbering his days,

Plain portals, keeping secrets safe inside