Wallet sing and play along

I found a wallet,

I found a wallet.

Inside were pictures of your small family

You were so young, your hair dark brown,

you had been born in nineteen fifty three.

Your winter birthday was stamped on the plastic of a license so recently expired.

I was so tired as I walked through my door,

I laid all the contents of your wallet on the floor.

And like a holy relic

or a myst'ry novel,

I thumbed them

in the dim light

searching for a clue.

A Blockbuster card,

an old stick of Juicy Fruit,

a crumpled receipt from a pair of leather boots.

I have no wallet,

I have no wallet.

I keep my cards together with a blue rubber band.

And with a free hand I search in my pocket for pieces of,

pieces of paper and change.

I'll take your wallet to my local

Blockbuster, they'll find your number in their computer.

You'll never know me, I'll never know you,

but you'll be so happy when they call you up.