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Door Lyrics
There's a door
Handle's cold
Made of iron and brass
And this door it used to lead
Into what is now my past
If you were to have opened this door
It would have lead you on to a floor
Where my mother had played almost 50 years before
Nuts and bolts galore
Croquet balls in drawers
Badminton nets and racquets
All Frank's undergarments
Walls get built where once there weren't any there
Locks get locked and door knobs fall off
Wood-carved roads, chip-rock rues, so turn the screws
But the weasel of my heart
Late at night unlocks the lock
Walks through the wall
Sits down with my mother and plays a game of ball
Nuts and bolts galore
Croquet balls in drawers
Badminton nets and racquets
All Frank's undergarments
There's a door
Handle's cold
Handle's cold
Made of iron and brass
And this door it used to lead
Into what is now my past
If you were to have opened this door
It would have lead you on to a floor
Where my mother had played almost 50 years before
Croquet balls in drawers
Badminton nets and racquets
All Frank's undergarments
Locks get locked and door knobs fall off
Wood-carved roads, chip-rock rues, so turn the screws
But the weasel of my heart
Late at night unlocks the lock
Walks through the wall
Sits down with my mother and plays a game of ball
Croquet balls in drawers
Badminton nets and racquets
All Frank's undergarments
Handle's cold
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