Words and Music by Dennis Livingston

I live in a New York apartment.
Of course, it’s rather small.
The neighbors are nosy, the kitchen is cozy.
I can’t turn around without hitting a wall.

There’s a living room, dining room,
guest room for two.
To be sure, they’re the same room,
but what can you do?

It’s affordable and clean,
I never see any mice.
There’s only one tiny problem
in this urban paradise.

I’ve got too many books,
too many God damn books!

They block the windows.
The views are gone.
I sleep in the daytime,
read till dawn.

To make room for more books,
I’ll dump the bed.
Put the fridge on the street,
I’ll eat out instead.

I may be a schnook,
but I keep buying
book after book, after book.

I’ve got too many shelves,
too many shelves with books!

Shelves hit the ceiling,
no drapery,
in my quiet, private

I rappel over shelves
seeking the sink.
Crawl through the aisles
to look for a drink.

I admit I’m a nut,
stuck in a rut,
with a glut
of too many books.

Lord of Print,
save me from the tomes in my life.
Grant me the light
to see my own face
when I wash up at night.

Lord of Print,
let me find my bedroom at last.
Help me explore
the path that you clear
to my buried front door.

Ah, but Lord of Print
you know that in spite of it all
when push comes to shove,
as it frequently does
given the above,
I love having…

too many books.
Even too many unread books.

My place smells like a musty shop.
There’s no space for me to flop.

Call me demented,
call me obsessive,
anal retentive,
slightly possessive.

But I can’t make myself stop …
collecting all those
too, too, too, too, too many books.



© 2005 Hallmark Music Co.


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