Things

Well here's the evidence of human existence
A splitting binbag next to damp boxes
And I cannot find the name for them
They hardly show that I have lived

And the dust, it settles on these things
Displays my age again
Like a new skin made from old skin
That'd barely been lived in

I didn't need these things
I didn't need them
Pointless artifact from a mediocre past
So I shed my clothes, I shed my flesh
Down to the bone and burned the rest
I didn't need these things
I didn't need them
Took them all to bits, turned 'em outside in
And I left them on the floor and ran for dear life for the door

-S. Hutchison, Frightened Rabbit