| This is my favourite song
|
| The list
|
| When this song became my favourite song
|
| I wrote the list it sat on top
|
| For weeks it pushed the others down down
|
| But I never reached the bottom of the list
|
| And I would cry and cry
|
| Cause it would lie and lie
|
| And I would cry and cry
|
| Cause it would lie and lie
|
| Fast forward one month
|
| When this song became my favourite song
|
| I wrote that list with it on top
|
| For weeks it pushed my favourite song down
|
| Second third and fifth
|
| But I never reached the end of that list
|
| Time has torn that list to pieces I know
|
| And I would cry and cry
|
| Cause it had lied and lied
|
| And I would cry and cry
|
| Cause it had lied and lied
|
| Why did that song have to lie to me
|
| Why couldn’t it be just another
|
| It was the wrong song as long as this went on
|
| For years I put my faith in print
|
| As if the truth could be discovered there
|
| My list could hold my soul intact
|
| Like paintings like
|
| Photographs
|
| Why did my song have to lie to me
|
| Why couldn’t it be just another
|
| It was the wrong song as long as this went on
|
| I never should have put my favourite song on the list |