trinket

I vacuum All around my house And every Sunday i find trinkets They're all memories i forgot about I use trinkets to remember the past Like a museum of moments Both happy and sad I can name a few a sight Like the jacket my father wore right before he died Or when i cut my wrist using that dull kitchen knife I was sad for the longest time Ghost in the machine But im gonna die And youre gonna die I just hope that by the end of it Even angsty and pissed That i get to 86 With a house full of trinkets