John Wesley Harding - Still Photo

I saw you yesterday
I couldn't let you be
I had to sift through broken glass
To find out if you missed me
But all I found was a slow fade
And a gift-wrapped box of band aids
With a note that said "I'm never coming home"


Beneath my single bed
Everything's haphazard
There's boxes full of bits of you
And none of them are numbered
And when I search, it's deja vu
Things I think I knew I should have thrown away this time last year


Everytime I touch you
You move so slow
And you're still like your photo


I heard me yesterday
Repeating my own name
To convince myself
That none of us had changed
And now I'm walking round the grooves
Of a record I lost when we moved
There's dust and scratches mixed with all these tears