Lyrics

Over pale German ale Michael tells us the tale
of the man who had lived one floor down
For 50 long years no one else ventured near
They walked through the hall
Unaware of the squalor that he kept around
Newspapers and bags wrappers and rags
Treasures and trash piled high
A great wall of Germany built from its history
Bric-a-brac bricks and the buzzing of flies

All alone in his room sealed in his tomb
When they finally opened the door
He had died in his chair three days resting there
Mountains of memories in stacks on the floor
What makes it so strong the urge to hold on
to things we should really let go?
In a one-man museum where people can’t see them
Secrets we keep from the neighbours below

Munich wakes up in the morning and washes his face
Sadness makes marks you can feel in the dark
Fresh paint and plaster are meant to erase
Climbing each flight of the staircase you might feel
the footsteps of those gone before
The coming and going, the uneasy unknowing
of those who have been through the war

Michael leads us upstairs to the room we will share
after we've played our concert that night
While the boys go out drinking, I lay here thinking
Ashamed to feel lonely I read Truman Capote just to keep on the light
Till I hear them stumbling, laughing and mumbling,
tumbling down cobblestone streets
In just a few hours they'll take their cold showers, put cowboy boots back on their feet

Munich wakes up in the morning and washes his face
Sadness makes marks you can feel in the dark
Fresh paint and plaster are meant to erase
Climbing each flight of the staircase you might feel
the footsteps of those gone before
The coming and going, the uneasy unknowing
of those who have been through the war