No, no! I’m afraid
That you can’t use that broom
It’s an old haunted broom
That we found in a tomb
It won’t collect dust
It just scatters it more
And it makes screeching sounds
When it’s dragged ‘cross the floor
At night, when I’m sleeping
It stands by my bed
Sweeping nightmares of doom
To my dream-heavy head
When I wake in the morning
I’m desperate to clean
A clean house would assuage
The dark visions I’ve seen
But I can’t
‘Cause my broom is an agent of Death
So it’s best to stay in
And just snort some more meth.
