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.'