Letters I've been sent, under the bed in a heart shaped box
Cinema tickets mixed in with dirty socks
Half written postcards to...
I can't remember who...
I've so many things left over
I don't know where they should go
It's not a mess its personal
Like the Home Altars of Mexico
It's hard just opening my bedroom door
All my memories spread out across the floor
A napkin from that meal we shared the other night
Lollipop sticks and Lego bricks
A broken seven inch I'll never play
Travel cards from a sunny day
Why can't I throw these things away....
I've so many things left over
I don't know where they should go
It's not a mess its personal
Like the Home Altars of Mexico