Up in the attic ten houses all static
Neither high nor low nor asking where to go
Through the broken painters
And the long line of fakers
You broke on through
To show me how to do
And the line of the high relinquishers
And the hot headed hoarders helping themselves while lame
Unleashed their fury
You though not feeling a thing
The panic men threw up their arms and gripped them as well
They thought their plan was sweet and oh' so swell
Then the mystery that laid them on their back since they were twelve
Showed up through the back door
Not asking for anything never feeling poor
Another past of the present becomes the thing in itself
The yarn spins itself silly
I just miss You Tilly
But so long for now and
Fare thee oh so well