We All Need Realtors Poem by King Happy

Eyes are windows to the soul
We spend our lives glancing veiled
Searching for our home.

I found my home once,
But the house it had to burn.
There's nothing left but the windows now
In a screaming tragic mourn.

In the ashes I see courage
Saying bye to what could be
Although the window isn't dirty
There's now nothing there for me.

But I still sit inside the wreckage,
A broken heart for you and me.
Even if my spirit won't have shelter,
I owe you property.