It's that little souvenir of a terrible year—Which makes me wonder why

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 have 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

Here's where the story ends
Ooh, here's where the story ends


(Lyrics by The Sundays)