Welcome to the Museum of Childhood
Victorian England. A jaundiced child grows up in a buttoned down house. She sings of her unfortunate condition. Her father looks over her as she sleeps and wishes her peace. The child seems to be far from that sweet state, however. She is experiencing all the private horrors of puberty. All would be well if she could only grow, yet her medical condition and repressive society conspire to stunt any movement in that direction. Ah! The museum of childhood! Pity its poor exhibits.
Bass and keyboards by Adam Henderson drums by Marcus Gilvear.
The melody references Waltzing Matilda and In the Deep Midwinter
THE CHILD:
My father named me Amber
After my Grandmamma
I lived 13 years
In the room upstairs
The neighbours do declare
That I 'm a sorry looking animal
In need of some time
In the country air
THE FATHER:
Your so young and tender
Not an early riser
Sleep on oh my child
I will not wake you
Your so young and tender
Your breast it falls and rises
Sleep on oh my child
I will not wake you
Again
THE CHILD:
With a tin-plated circus
And chipped wooden animals
My brother built for himself
A hareem
All through the long hot summer
Locked in the room next door to him
I heard his every little
Moan and scream
Like the dripping of the fat
From food kept in my underwear
That stains what was once white
As if exposed to nicotine
I don't change, I don't grow
As with the fixtures in this apartment
Time is only measured in
The Yellowing of skin
THE FATHER:
Your so young and tender
Not an early riser
Sleep on oh my child
I will not wake you
Your so young and tender
Your breast it falls and rises
Sleep on oh my child
I will not wake you
Again
THE CHILD:
Did the museum of childhood
Want me for a specimen?
Did it fill me full of formaldehyde
And stick me on a pin?
Oh I am dying, I am dying
I am dying, oh my daddy
Wont you came and end this suffering?