Lyrics:

#11 - I HAVE LITTLE TO NO MEMORY OF THESE MEMORIES
Part 3 - The Hoarder
“I think I’m trapped!” cried the woman
Surrounded by newspaper, glass bottles and magazines stacked to the roof
Bird cages
Not one, but TWO big ol’ boats in the front yard, tarpaulin (not weather-proofed)
She does that thing with her hands that she does when she’s in an inconsolable state of
panic
As you can see, she has a problem
She thinks she needs it all, and there’s just years worth of stuff
piled and blocking each entrance (and exit) of the house, she’s well and truly f ucked
She tries to find a phone but all she finds is radios!
People, what we see is a girl insane
A girl insane
A little house on a cul de sac
Filled to the brim with trinkets, with bric-à-brac
Pop culture memorabilia, clothing stacks
And not to mention the 14 or 15 cats
Sink filled with plates and teacups and vermin traps..
Frantic, a hatstand falls and trips her over
And though at first it’s all still intact,
A towering pile of pamphlets (and other crap)
Topples and tumbles down and then bam! It smacks
The back of her head. Her vision tunes out to black
And all she can hear is the crackling
of a fire igniting from a shattered old oil lantern
Folks, all we see is a girl insane
A girl insane
But to some, in the depths of space,
She’s the perfect brain
the perfect brain
All dials were turned somehow to 49 at the same damn time
on those vintage radios - a transmission flow!
A surge of something suddenly starts seeping in through skull and skin
Her mind is flooded out with foreign memories..