Museum of Almost

A half-built chair, a film uncut Three years of songs inside a box I called the room a waste of space And wore that verdict on my face My little brother found the key He said, who made this all for me? In the museum of almost Nothing has to be a ghost Every crooked thing I made Says I showed up anyway He hung my sketches down the stairs Sat like a king upon the chair The short leg rocked, he didn't mind He grinned and said, it feels like mine In the museum of almost Nothing has to be a ghost Every crooked thing I made Says I showed up anyway I opened up the unfinished file And listened without pressing hide The ending wasn't waiting there I wrote it sitting in that chair In the museum of almost Nothing has to be a ghost Every crooked thing I made Says I showed up anyway The box is empty by the wall I've started something after all