Songtexte: Triffids (The). Love Of Will. Pack Up Your Troubles.

Too late to call, I walk the floor
Reheat the food I didn't touch the night before
The TV's on, but not for long
I'm not the good old boy you knew
no, you got a different one

Pack up your troubles and give them all to me
That way you could lose them, I know how to use them
So give them all to me

I see you still, I hear your voice
My plane is circling high above your clouds
You have no choice
Your map is torn, your voice is worn
The sea breeze is in, the sunlight's thin
so let's go someplace warn

Seems nobody says what the mean anymore
But that's not important to me
I just walk straight through your door

Too close to call, this match is drawn
You've won the car, it's waiting on the showroom floor
For goodness' sake, clean up your face
Well you should know by now ...
We're close enough... there's no disgrace...

Pack up your troubles and give them all to me
That way you could lose them, I know how to use them
So give them all to me