Hiding places

G C G Am G
F C

When we were getting our house done enough to move in
Dad asked me if I wanted to pick out a ceiling.
So we went to a home decoration place and I picked one out:
I picked the kind that was divided up into squares.

The square tiles rested on a metal framework like a checkerboard
The metal part was black and the tiles were a bumpy white texture
Like on a globe in Bas relief where you can feel the mountains and stuff like that

After getting my room all set up and living in the house for a year
I realized having this kind of ceiling was weird 
It was the kind you usually only see in offices
One night I stood on a chair and pushed on one of the tiles

It moved up and slid over and I could put my hand up there
I felt around and discovered a few feet of space
It was a perfect hiding space for my dirty magazines.

Dad was a snoop and would find them if I'd hid them in my sock drawer
Or underneath my mattress like my brother and my friends
But some years later when I'd moved out for a couple of years
I came back for Thanksgiving and my room was a sewing room for Mom.

I stood on a chair and poked around the ceiling for my stash of magazines.
I stuffed them and a Pee-Chee full of clippings in my suitcase.
After dessert I searched for another hiding spot.

Words adapted from a short story by kevin sampsell
Music by m johnson ©2008 zubsongs, ltd