| People I know, places I go
|
| Make me feel tongue tied
|
| I can see how, people look down
|
| They're on the inside
|
| Here's where the story ends
|
| People I see, weary of me
|
| Showing my good side
|
| I can see how, people look down
|
| I'm on the outside
|
| Here's, where the story ends
|
| Ooh here's, where the story ends
|
| It's that little souvenir, of a terrible year
|
| Which makes my eyes feel sore
|
| Oh I never should have said, the books that you read
|
| Were all I loved you for
|
| It's that little souvenir, of a terrible year
|
| Which makes me wonder why
|
| And it's the memories of the shed, that make me turn red
|
| Surprise, surprise, surprise
|
| Crazy I know, places I go
|
| Make me feel so tired
|
| I can see how people look down
|
| I'm on the outside
|
| Here's, where the story ends
|
| Ooh here's, where the story ends
|
| It's that little souvenir, of a terrible year
|
| Which makes my eyes feel sore
|
| And who ever would've thought, the books that you brought
|
| Were all I loved you for
|
| Oh the devil in me said, go down to the shed
|
| I know where I belong
|
| But the only thing I ever really wanted to say
|
| Was wrong, was wrong, was wrong
|
| It's that little souvenir, of a colorful year
|
| Which makes me smile inside
|
| So I cynically, cynically say, the world is that way
|
| Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise
|
| Here's, where the story ends
|
| Ooh here's, where the story ends |