Old Photographs

Old photographs, before I even knew my own name
I carry it, I carry it around
All these boxes, but none of them will hold me
Oh lord, at least I have her hands
Finds me in the night, fear underneath my collar
What I know is right and what I know the world is
Haunted by design and the myth of the real thing
But I don’t even mind, at all, when she’s around
Late night, just me and the moonshine painting
Half life, I carry it around
All these boxes but none of them will hold me
Oh Lord at least I have her hands
All these boxes but none of them will hold me
Oh Lord at least I have her hands
All these walls but they can’t keep out the devil
Oh Lord, at least I have her hands
Finds me in the night, fear underneath my collar
What I know is right and what I know the world is
Haunted by design and the myth of the real thing
But I don’t even mind, at all, when she’s around
Old photographs, before I even knew my own name
I carry it, I carry it around