My brother's in the wardrobe
Sometimes I feel him there
He doesn't ever talk to me
but sometimes I feel him stare.

My brother's in the wardrobe
He wasn't feeling good
He felt that things weren't really quite
They way they really should


My brother's in the wardrobe
He hopped into his car
He put a hose in through the door
And sucked the mucky air

My brother's in the wardrobe
It seems he'd found The Lord
With godly friends who told him that
In heaven you don't get bored

My brother's in the wardrobe
They put him in a dress
Of satin stuff, embroi-der-ed
When he's really just a mess.

My brother's in the wardrobe
The weather was quite brisk
The curtains rose, the box went out
They burnt him to a crisp.

My brother's in the wardrobe
He shares the space with moths.
I brought him home, made nasty jokes
About good gifts for goths.

My brother's in the wardrobe
I knew not what to do
My mother couldn't look at him
(She didn't see him blue)

My brother's in the wardrobe
Sometimes I feel him there
He doesn't ever talk to me

but...

sometimes...

not often...

hardly ever...

He doesn't ever talk to me
but sometimes I feel him stare.

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