Standing in the attic
And looking all around.
Things are hanging on the wall.
While some are scattered on the ground.
In the corner is the christmas train,
Still sitting upon the track.
While memories of long ago,
Warm the heart, as they come flooding back.
And leaning up against the wall,
I see an old baby chair.
It's been almost twenty years
Since the day we put it there.
Over there are the hippie and the disco clothes.
They are tucked inside the trunk.
To some they are a treasure,
But to others they are junk.
Each object in this room
Has a special place for me.
These old relics that you see here
Are just precious memories.