| The cella’s full of wine
|
| You can no longer drink
|
| Your head is full of thoughts
|
| You don’t allow yourself to think
|
| The cupboard’s full of canned fruit
|
| Vegetables and meat
|
| Everything is damaged goods
|
| Like sour grapes gone sweet
|
| The drawer’s full of letters
|
| Overdue to be sent
|
| Stamps no longer valid
|
| And words no longer meant
|
| You saved them for a rainy day
|
| You waited for too long
|
| You thought that saving memories
|
| Was the thing that made me strong
|
| Obsolete
|
| Like the autumn leaves on the street
|
| They’re obsolete
|
| Like the morning dew beneath your feet
|
| The closet’s bursting at the seams
|
| With clothes you do not wear
|
| You need to get your life fixed
|
| But a part of you don’t care
|
| You’ve done everything so right
|
| But now it seems all wrong
|
| You played so damn hard
|
| That it turned to a song
|
| You saved them for a rainy day
|
| You waited for too long
|
| You thought that saving memories
|
| Was the thing that made me strong
|
| But the years are filling out
|
| With the chances you don’t take
|
| Your heart is pounding
|
| And you cannot stand the ache
|
| You’re obsolete
|
| Like the autumn leaves on the street
|
| Obsolete
|
| Like the morning dew beneath your feet |