Dead Man's Clothes

I don't wanna wear the dead man's clothes

I don't wanna hear the dead man's songs

I don't wanna eat the dead man's food

All we are is stuff upstairs: broken-in shirts and broken housewares

All we become is things on stoops: unworn windbreakers in yellows and blues

All we were was trash picked up: half-empty boxes of unused junk

All we hoped for is still back home: a mother, daughter, or wife left all alone

All we ever wanted was never all we ever needed

All we ever end up is there in some lady's arms

And we're lucky to be in some lady's arms