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Door Lyrics - Singles - Martha Wainwright

There's a door 

Handle's cold 

Made of iron & brass 

And this door it used to lead 

Into what is now my past 

If you were to have opened this door 

It would have lead you on to a floor 

Where my mother had played almost 50 years before 

 

Nuts & bolts galore 

Croquet balls in drawers 

Badminton nets & racquets 

All Frank's undergarments 

 

Walls get built where once there weren't any there 

Locks get locked & door knobs fall off 

Wood-carved roads, chip-rock rues, so turn the screws 

But the weasel of my heart 

Late at night unlocks the lock 

Walks thru the wall 

Sits down with my mother & plays a game of ball 

 

Nuts & bolts galore 

Croquet balls in drawers 

Badminton nets & racquets 

All Frank's undergarments 

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