Souvenirs Lyrics

Am I the fading flower

Forgotten on your chair

Am I the photograph removed from your white walls

And shoved somewhere

Between your books

Or in a box under your bed

Am I

Am I

Am I

Am I nowhere

Well let me tell you dear

You are my own sad set of souvenirs

You're a ticket

An empty lighter

A half-done sketch that I have cleared

Into a drawer

And yes of course

You are photos that I look at from time to time

And know that I

Could no more climb into them

And be with you there

Than I could play Picasso's violins

Or hug the Scream

Or touch the Mona Lisa's hair

Or smell Vincent's fading flowers

Or fall down in his chair