-> "The Boxes"
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I am not a neat boy
And my stuff I like to hold
Locked in storage - my resistance
To my parents' constant grumbles
And my promises -
All lies, I guess
Still my mum hears what she wants to hear
And gets it off her chest.
Then I left my home and family -
An apartment of my own,
Oh how limited the space was!
Couldn't find the room to stash my trinkets -
'Twas a deal for poorer quarters,
I had nowhere else to go.
Can't afford the space where
All my things could go.
Why w-why, Why w-why why , why w-why
Why w-why why , why w-why, w-w-w-w-why?
Spending all my workman's wages
On an "antique" cuckoo clock,
Or some other clobber
That I found in several stores on Seventh Avenue.
I do declare!
There were times when my collecting
Almost saw me staying there.
La la la la la la la
Why w-why, etc
Now I'm throwing out my daggy clothes
T'the Salvos they have gone.
They have gone
With the "Michael Crawford, Live in Concert" DVD
D-V-Deee oooh, they have gone.
So I'm clearing out my boxes,
Sorting out the mess I've made -
Tossing out each grim reminder
Of every time I've gone to town,
Been sucked in by a hawker
(To my own eternal shame).
So I'm cleaning, yes I'm cleaning,
But the boxes still remain.
Why why why ... etc
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