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| Pete Atkin sings
The Trophies Of My Lovers Gone by Clive James and Pete Atkin, [Much more at www.peteatkin.com] |
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The turns of speech that I can't quite erase from how I talk The songs that I might sometimes hum a phrase from when I walk And all the times I can't afford to let my thoughts run on These are the trophies of my lovers gone I've heard of birds that pick up beads and trinkets for a nest And people who keep souvenirs and think it's for the best But why should I who never doubted that the dead live on Live with the trophies of my lovers gone The gifts they give you you can sell You can always burn the letters, pawn the rings But still you'll change in the little things That anyone with half an eye can tell I know it's false to think that life depends on love alone And falser still that it begins and ends on who you've known I swear to God though that I don't know if my soul's my own Or one of the trophies of my lovers gone | |||||
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