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There is a man who lives in a house
Still in his parents care
From all the world he has gathered
A trove of tresures rare
He does not play the records
He does not race the cars
He does not lick the stamps
He prefers things as they are
In this room he sits and waits
A tiger in its lair
And god have mercy on any soul
Who dares to enter there
He sits alone and does not move
The possessions in his care
To all of those who touch his treasures
I say to you Beware
The records dont leave the plastic
He claims theyre never played
The cars dont leave the box
The stamps have never strayed
He will never touch them
His love is way to dear
But noone else shall either
No one can get near
He will die one day
His fortune still untouched
His precious prizes sold
For mere chimp-change and such
I wonder what hed think
I wonder what hed say
He spent his whole life collecting
And now its all been thrown away
All his valued treasures
Gone without a fuss
And the irony of it is
He never touched them once