After the fact it’s hard to explainI think I went in to get out of the rainBut all that really doesn’t matter nowTher was nothing that told, nothing that warnedJust a path that looked a little forlornOn a dead-end street that made me uneasy somehowIn the House of ConfusionLit by the lamp of fantasyWas it truth or illusion?I don’t know – You tell meThere was dirt on the window and dust on the stairNothing in the room but an old vinyl chairI don’t need to tell you I wasn’t jumping for joyI called out, “Where has everybody gone?”Someone left the record player onMarc Bolan singing “Twentieth Century Boy”Now I don’t know what’s real and what is notI might have known once but I forgotI crossed the threshold and something occurredThe clock struck zero and time stood stillThe rain doesn’t stop and it never willI can assure you that every line is blurredI was dancing, I was acting coyIn the arms of a twentieth century boyI introduced myself, said, “ It’s such a shameI only know you by your Christian name”He nodded once and he faded awayBut I could swear I heard him say“Welcome to the House of Confusion”