Oh, how this stuff piles around me.
It has built up over time.
Old pictures, and playing cards and pens.
Why, with this much stuff I think that it's a crime.

Maybe I should sell it.
Oh but how hard that will be!
Every thing has a value.
Well, maybe that's just me.

Most of this is useless!
But oh how many memories a single thing can store.
Yet the worst thing of all is that,
I just keep buying more.

A bunch of old necklaces.
A pair of sunglasses missing a lens.
Jelly jars, and old crayons.
Old ink-less pens.

A faded pink sun dress.
A alarm clock that no longer ticks.
Lava lamps, and a baby grand.
A game of pickup sticks.

Most is in the attic.
But a lot is still here around me.
I could try to get rid of it all.
But oh, how hard that will be.