Don’t give me big stories
Like the ones you see on TV
Give me your small stories
The ones that no-one sees.
Give me the song your mother sang
To get you off to sleep
Give me the things you gave away
And those you tried to keep.
Give me the scuffed-up school shoes
Give me the tiny socks
The photo you have of your grandma
In her prettiest, prettiest frock.
Give me the letter you tore to shreds
But then kept under your bed
Give me the very first lie you told
Give me all the thoughts in your head.
Give me the name and the colour
Of your very first very own pet
Give me your earliest memory
Give me your greatest regret.
Give me the time she called you Dave
When really your name is Chris
Tell me the way you felt
When you had your very first kiss.
Give me your song in the shower
Give me your secret shame
Give me your hopes for the future
Give me your first nickname.
Give me the words you didn’t say
And all the ones you did
Tell me the times you ran away
Show me the places you hid.
Tell me the way that her arms felt
When she held them around you each night
Give me the taste of your tears
When you failed after trying