Oh, and you probably should leave out the Rising Sun, too.
Aw come on guys, No Stairway to Heaven in da house?
Only if it’s one of the Houses of the Holy.
Dreaming - I see bridges spanning spaces between red oak trees,
connecting houses in the leaves.
I’d like to build the world a home, furnish it with love. However, that’s physically impossible.
If you need some decorating suggestions, then go ahead, take a look in my kitchen. Take a look at the woodgrain there.
Norwegian wood?
I’ll build a stairway to Paradise,
With a new step every day.
OTOH, a little grass shack could be charming.
Or a Sugar Shack!
(I always have to throw in a little Country…)
It takes more than marble and tile.
Don’t put it on the corner Lonely and Gone.
Don’t sit and cry in it when it’s empty. (especially if it’s raining…)
Number fifty-four? The house with the bamboo door?
Meh. Wherever I lay my hat is my home. Now excuse me whilst I sing more songs about buildings and food.
Or… a Love Shack?
And out the back door, a giant doing cartwheels, a statue wearin’ high heels, happy creatures dancing on the lawn, a dinosaur Vict’rola list’ning to Buck Owens, tambourines and elephants. Well. I could go on. Do do do.
I think you’d prefer a shanty in an old shanty town.
Not a Cabin in the Sky?
Don’t bother to put in a red door. I’ll want to paint it black.
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. And you may ask yourself, “Well… how did I get here?”
I don’t need a beautiful house:
Four cabin walls would be just right for me. I need a threshold I can cross when I can sit and gather moss forevermore, a million miles away behind the door.
Yes. Isn’t it good?
It’s at times like these that I try to remember that one man’s ceiling is another man’s floor…