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Personal Things
Triffids, The
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A red scarf that she wore, a rinse in her hair
A blister, an undersized shoe
Her name on a tag that can't be washed off
A place at a table for two
I think she wore red, I believe she wore black
Any colour you mention but blue
Any number of colours under the sun
I won't be revealing to you
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I can tell you it's final, I know it's concluded
I tell you for certain were through
I can give you the names and the places and the dates
But what could it mean to someone like you?
So don't come and visit, don't give me no joke
Don't ask me no how does it go
For it goes as fast as a chicken with no head
And, Lord, time goes by so slow
So slow
Some secrets of love you take to your bed
And there's some that you take to your grave
Well, I took mine to a new address
Where I took my rest at the end of the day
Now all of my stuff is spread out on the floor
An unmade bed, a drink or two
And I'm packing and unpacking personal things
That fail to remind me of you
Of you
You can rub it off, you can scrape it off
You can rub it off, you can scrape it off
You can drink it off, you can burn it off
Oh yeah, oh yeah
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Oh yeah, oh yeah
Oh, yeah
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