โหลดเพลง mp3 My Finest Hour - The Sundays

My Finest Hour - The Sundays
And the world it shows me up

My clothes they show me up
I never knew this before

My finest hour that I've ever known

Was finding a pound on the underground

And my words came stumbling out

And then I went tumbling out
I've never been hit before

And the finest hour that I've ever known

Was finding a pound on the underground

And I keep hoping you are the same as me

And I'll send you letters

and come to your house for tea

We are who we are, what do the others know?

But poetry is not for me
So show me the way to go home

And the words came stumbling
out of my mouth

And I went tumbling out here, no no,

But I keep hoping you are the same as me

And I'll send you letters
and come to your house for tea

We are who we are, what do the others know?

But poetry is not for me
so show me the way to go
Oh, I'm going home
But I keep hoping you are the only one

Yes and I'll send you letters,
oh wouldn't it be such fun?

We are who we are whatever the others say

But poetry is not for me
And much as I'd like to stay
Oh, I just want to go home

You're, you're, you're too young

Should've been you're, you're, you're too young

It should've been you're too, you're too,
you're too young

It should've been you, you, you're too young

You should've been safer, saner

Barred the doors and then sat down
Ooh you're, you're, you're too young