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Here´s where the story ends - The Sundays



     
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Here´s where the story ends Lyrics


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 endsPeople 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 endsIt'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 forIt's that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes me wonder why
And it's the memories of your shed that make me turn red
Surprise, surprise, surpriseCrazy I know, places I go
Make me feel so tired
I can see how people look down

I'm on the outside
Oh, here's where the story ends
Ooh, here's where the story endsIt'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 forOh, 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 wrongIt'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, surpriseHere's where the story ends
Ooh, here's where the story ends

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The Sundays were an influential british indie group of the late 1980s and 1990s. Singer Harriet Wheeler and guitarist David Gavurin formed the band in college at bristol, soon adding bassist Paul Brindley and drummer Patrick Hannan. Comparisons were drawn with original label-mates The Smiths, and bands such as Cocteau Twins, and 10,000 Maniacs. Their level of commercial success was almost unprecedented by an indie act when their first album 'Reading Writing and Arithmetic' (rough trade, 1989) debuted in the British charts at number 4...

Read more about The Sundays on Last.fm.


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The Sundays