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
