I was a closet closet,

But you tried to clothes me in,

My shirts and my pants been

  hanging round this bar too long.

My hinges were gettin’ rusty,

My Adidas were indeed a dittle dusty,

Yes a closet closet, in a corner

  with a bottle of blues.

For years I skirted the his shoes,

But I ain’t blouse-ay no more,

I been cabinet all to my shelf,

But it’s your vase I adore,

I’m enameled of your vanity,

It’s true I’m floored when we’re in sink,

And that chest above the drawers,

Has me thinking of yours, on all fours,

Mattress said he’d knock on wood,

And if I hat to be a cap it sweater to be a hood,

And couch she lied, sofa – so good.

And my true collars were showing,

I had to sleeveless dying room,

Turn the table, put some desko music on,

Baby, dust my broom.

I was a closet closet,

But my set didn’t suit your suite,

I’ve had too many threads on my life

  not to cut my ties.

All this material has cotton to me,

I got to get my rear out of this roomy,

Yes a closet closet, but now I eat just what I choose.

Ah, pass me some blues.