Letters I couldn't send
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, it's 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
Lollypop sticks and lego bricks
A broken 7 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, it's personal
Like the Home Altars of Mexico