How long have you had that thing?

Oh, this old thing,
I've held onto it for years
Tucked away, folded neatly
On a shelf way in back
Out of sight, out of mind they say.

So, why have you kept it all these years?

Good question, 
I think I held onto it out of fear.
Fear that I would get rid of it 
Then suddenly need it again.
Why do you ask, do you want it?

No, it doesn't look like it would fit me.

You know, it really doesn't look
Like it fits me anymore either.
Maybe, if I keep it just a little longer,
I'll run into him somewhere
And I can give it back.
You know, how he gave it to me 
a long time ago.

Yeah, it does look like his work.

I think I will.
Give it back to him, I mean.
The next time I see him,
So he'll see that I've outgrown it.
I'll tell him it just
Doesn't fit me anymore,
That I'm bigger than I was
When I was with him.

I wonder what he'll say, 
when you give it back to him.

Maybe it will fit him now.
I hope it fits him,
When I hand him this old,
Worn out, broken heart,
That I don't need, 
That just doesn't fit me anymore.