Chris Pureka - 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