Today I found a baby's glove   Lying on the drainage board, so still   Yesterday a leather glove   From the slim tinkered hand of a woman      The next time I saw one it was lying half frozen   And twisted on the curb, I couldn't take it      Now I have my own private collection   All lined in rows when you open up the wardrobe doors   Now I have no room for my obsession   Lined up and labeled in neat little packets      The next time I saw one it stuck inside my head   And became all that I could think about, oh      And through wax seals and padlocks   A hand through my ribcage past the choking   I saw palms and fingers grasping   Shoulders collarbone crushing      I imagined myself hacking desperately at a sea of appendages   Forward and right, freeing myself like a butcher   Feeling the mash of bone and sinew   Running slowly down the front of my body and I couldn't take it any more      I said, I've got to go, I've got to get out of here, I've got to go   And I ran down the street, I've got to go   I've got to get out of here, I've got to go, I've got to go