I have a drop-leaf window. With cats and broken yards. Sunflowers and paint cans. And stolen shopping carts. And nothing to be proud of. And nothing to regret. All of that to make as yet. All of that to make as yet. I have a single heartbreak. I celebrate and mourn. A single shining sister. And all the tricks of dawn. A single yellow duvet. A single switch to flick. But a thousand boxes yet to tick. A thousand boxes yet to tick. And Jesus is a Rochdale girl. And forty-five CDs. Got a house that you can smoke in. So all my friends found me. And they found me full of myself. And bloody-minded will. And as yet a box to fill. And as yet a box to fill