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Frightened Rabbit - Things |
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Well here's the evidence of human existence |
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A splitting binbag next to damp boxes |
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And I cannot find the name for them |
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They hardly show that I have lived |
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And the dust, it settles on these things |
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Displays my age again |
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Like a new skin made from old skin |
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That'd barely been lived in |
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I didn't need these things |
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I didn't need them, oh |
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Pointless artifact from a mediocre past |
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So I shed my clothes, I shed my flesh |
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Down to the bone and burned the rest |
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Took them all to bits, turned 'em outside in |
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And I left them on the floor |
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and ran for dear life for the door, oh |
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Useless objects, a gathered a storm of shit |
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Put them in a silent shed, threw out your life's supplies |
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When all you need's a coffin and your Sunday best |
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To smarten up the end |
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And at the front gate, what reward awaits |
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One pint of low from a holy ghost |
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An eternity of suffering in the company of all those Christian men |
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The point was hard to pass |
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A mediocre past |
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and ran for dear life to the door, oh |
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Never need these things |
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I'll never need them, oh |
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This is you and me, you are human heat |
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And the things aren't holy things |
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And the things bring me light, they bring me, oh |
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Never going back, so we can drop the past |
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And we'll leave it on the floor |
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and run for dear life for the door, oh |
