Open House Now For Your Fading Heart,
Tell Your Ghost It's Time To Hide;
Strangers Won't Know When To Stop And Start
Once They've Fin'ly Got Inside.

Spir'ling Staircase Toward Your Dusty Mind,
With Crates And Boxes And Bags And Trunks;
No One Cares What Tender Dreams They'll Find,
All They'll See Up There Is Junk

With Silver Dollars From A Ragdoll's Ear
And Merc'ry Dimes For Buttons, Too,
And Flutes And Whistles Only Kids Can Hear
And Peacock Feathers Green And Blue.

Deep Depression In A Walnut Grain,
Afternoons On Rainy Days;
Once It Stacked Up Well In Both Your Brains,
And Now It's All Some Purple Haze

With Vandals Picking Locks And Breaking Doors
And Smashing Keepsakes All Around;
Souvenirs Of Love And Foreign Shores
And Scrapbook Pages All Unbound.

It's Open House Now For Your Fading Heart,
Tell Your Ghost It's Time To Hide;
Strangers Won't Know When To Stop And Start
Once They've Fin'ly Got Inside.