Well I woke up this morning
  The place was such a reck
  I couldn't reach the bathroom
  Thought I'd better clear the deck
  I tried to call the lawyer
  And ask him what to do
  He referred me to his doctor
  Who referred me back to you
  And when you checked the manual
  You kept in side the case
  It said 'put it in a cool dry place'
  
  I drove around the city
  Looking for a room
  That was high above the water
  Where my things could be in tune
  There was no one to help me
  Nobody even cared
  I had to got through hell
  To get those things up there
  I paid my first subscription
  Then I joined the idle race
  and they said 'store it in a cool dry place'
  
  I got guitar, basses, amplifiers and drums
  Accordions and mandolis and things that sometimes hum
  Cymbals and harmonicas, capos by the score
  And lots of things in boxes laying all around the floor
  
  Some places they get mildew
  And others get too hot
  Some places are so damp that
  Everything you got just rots
  All kinds of condensation
  Directories of the rain
  There's not much compensation
  When everything's been stained
  Some have sentimental value that
  Cannot be erased
  Go store it in a cool dry place
  
  We got solids and acoustics
  And some from flowered board
  And some are trimmed in leather
  And some are made with gourds
  There's organs and trombones
  And reverbs we can use
  Lots of dx-7s
  And old athletic shoes
  I bought a great big building
  It took up one whole block
  I made an inventory
  Of all the things in stock
  The place was getting longer
  I was up all night
  I used up all my pencils
  But I went onto spite
  The blury of my vision
  The sweat upon my face
  I've got to put this stuff away
  I mustn't leave a trace
  The landlord's breathing down my neck
  He say's it's a disgrace
  So I said 'put it in a cool, dry, place.