Thank you for leaving the old broken bunk
Thanks for the worn-out clothes in the trunk
Thanks for the books that now are debunked
Itu0027s an inheritance of junk
Thank you for teaching who settled the land
Thanks for drawing lines in the sand
History is heavy, itu0027s hard to withstand
The weight of all the junk
Mother, father, commander in chief
Who is the angel, who is the thief
Sisters, brothers, we can re-arrange our beliefs
When we sort through the junk
Thank you for artfully planning the scene
In theatre absurd thereu0027s nothing obscene
Caretakers come to sweep the stage clean
In the theatre of junk
Mothers, fathers, I know you chose well
What you have left takes time to sell
What will float, what will sink in the swells
Of the oceans of junk
Thank you for music and the six-string guitar
Thanks for the telescope aimed at the stars
Everyone looks but you must look hard
To find treasures in the junk

Thank you for the collection of stamps
Thanks for Morse code and burned-out amps
Thanks for freedom and light from the lamps
To Illuminate whatu0027s not junk
Thank you for mysteries no one can explain
Thanks for the chaff and occasional grain
Thanks for water, thanks for champagne
To celebrate beautiful junk
Soon as Iu0027m leaving to my children I say
Iu0027ll do what I can to stay out of your way
Get yourself free and you wonu0027t have to pay
When you inherit the junk