Lyrics
I built the porch in nineteen eighty-four Raised three children on that creaking floor The hill still folds around the yard And the maple turns the same old red Now the folks who bought it hung a swing The movers came and took each thing I stood there with my toolbox in the rain And took the old front door off its hinge I sold the house but kept the door Planed and oiled and worn and sure Every mark my children made Still there to run my hand along I sold the house but kept the door I'll hang it in a new place A pencil line from every year Their heights climbed up the grain right here I'll fit it in a little place Where the morning light can find it I sold the house but kept the door Planed and oiled and worn and sure Every mark my children made Still there to run my hand along I sold the house but kept the door I'll hang it in a new place A house is just a box of wood Till someone lives there, makes it good And what we made, we carry on In hands, in songs, in grain I sold the house but kept the door Planed and oiled and worn and sure Every mark my children made Still there to run my hand along I sold the house but kept the door I'll hang it in a new place Hang it new, hang it new Hands remember what they knew