The neighbor is home, the booming begun
Must be his day off, he’s all alone
Thumping is company, lover, and friend
I’m too damn old to go through this again

Downstairs is mystery, but counting down
The weeknight I hear him goes round and round
Last week on Sunday, this week on Monday
Eight days no sounds when he goes away

His entrance is striking, like thunder and lightning
Shaking the floors, giving them wings
Disturbing my peaceful dreams
No place to think or read

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