Little Trinkets made out of popsicle sticks
Litterly lie in the street or a stone's
Throw away from you right now
A little box filled with carpenters pants
That you needed to get 'for you got into work
But don't you feel lonely now isn't that your curse
A little pamphlet filled with real tiny facts
Literally folds and then literally leaves
But don't you feel love and found like I do indeed
By all these Little Trinkets made out of pop, sickle sticks