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No Surprise - Ron Pope



     
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No Surprise Lyrics


Friday is when you left me
So I'll drink myself to sleep
And Sunday is when I'll wake up
Not to remember a thing
My friends all say the same thing
I don't know my new girl too well
(I know)
That all this lying gets to me
And no one seems to give a shit
(The way)
She talks to every guy in the bar
(I guess)
It should've raised some kind of alarm
Who'd ever think I'd go and end up?
Like all the other guys that you're gunning for!
Well it ain't no surprise

That you turn me on and leave
It ain't no surprise
That you turn it around on me
I don't know why
You won't give me what I need
It ain't no surprise
That that bitch is leavin' me
My friends are mean to me
They say I don't break up too well
(They know)
All this crying gets to me
And no one seems to give a shit
Well I know you want to
So go on and say it
Just go on and say it
Just go on and say it
Well it ain't no surprise
That you turn me on and leave
It ain't no surprise
That you turn it around on me
I don't know why
You won't give me what I need
It ain't no surprise
That that bitch is leavin' me
(Leavin' me, Leavin' me, Leavin' me, Leavin')
Friday is when you left me
So I drank myself to sleep
And Sunday I never woke up
Well it ain't no surprise
That you turn me on and leave
It ain't no surprise
That you turn it around on me
I don't know why
You won't give me what I need
It ain't no surprise
That that bitch is leavin' me
That that bitch is leavin' me
---

Enjoy the lyrics !!!
Where should I start…these stories, my music, it comes from all the places I’ve been, the people I’ve been blessed to play music along side, the way it feels to play my guitar until it bleeds or to bang on that old piano in my living room until my shoulders ache and my fingers won’t move anymore. From Georgia to New York, New York to the road; Charleston and Memphis, Vermont to Chicago. Turned 21, then 22…released my first record with The District…Maine and Boston and who knows where else…made love in the grass and meant it…walked down Wilshire, blinking in the Los Angeles sun… got lost in Delaware scrambling to get home to my family after too much time…swam in the ocean with the boys, thanking God for purple and orange Florida sunrises. Soaked up New Orleans…tried to become Levon Helm; realized I wasn’t much of a drummer……turned 23. Wrote A Drop In The Ocean with Zach Berkman and then put it away for six months because I didn’t get it…fell in love…drank whiskey from the bottle and howled at the moon…released Last Call…played the blues back-to-back with Buz in Charlotte and just about everywhere else along that godforsaken highway…the van broke down…we fixed it…the van broke down again. Got lost heading to South Carolina and ended up in Alabama…fell out of love and hit my head on the way towards the bottom…turned 24…made a Christmas album, because, damn it, I like Christmas albums. Played big rooms…played small rooms …listened to Van Morrison and cried…listened to trains scream somewhere off in the distance on ink-black sleepless nights… I traced the outline of a woman’s face on a piece of paper; someone I loved and didn’t want to forget once we’d put the whole thing to bed. The picture didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, so I took my ink-stained fingers and spelled her name out in big, smeared letters on my arm. I guess that’s all I’ve ever really had…my words. This music is the story of where I’ve been, who I am, and where I’m going…these songs are my life.

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Ron Pope