The gift

You still unused large pot of cream
You unwanted gift of Christmas 1988
A dusty reminder, who can express
Why I haven't cleaned my cupboards
Full of bottle ring stains and cobwebs
Of dead spiders and perfumes that stink
In bathrooms or in the kitchen
What crap in inside all of these bottles?
What ancient spice? What congealed mascara?
What putrid hand cream? What decomposed biscuit?

I've heard some bathrooms are sweet, but those unclean
Are gross, I should know, I have one
Not to the obvious inspection, but on a closer look
There's a huge pile of shit
In cupboards, drawers and even in shoe boxes
Because I stuff bottles, jars and tins everywhere
Bold cleaning is definitely not for me
I'd rather read a book, or take a run
All you pots and tins, just sit there for a few years more
Until I die and some other fucker gets to throw you out