Featured In
Similar Songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Harriet Wheeler
Vocals
David Gavurin
Guitar
Paul Brindley
Bass
Patrick Hannan
Drums
Lindsay Jamieson
Tambourine
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Harriet Wheeler
Songwriter
David Gavurin
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Sundays
Producer
Ray Shulman
Producer
Gail Lambourne
Engineer
Alan Moulder
Engineer
Lyrics
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 in 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 in the underground
And I'll 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 then I went tumbling out, mm
But I'll 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'll keep hoping you are the only one
Yes, and I'll send you letters, 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, you're, you're too young
It should've been you too, you're too, you're too young
It should've been you, you, you're too young
You should've been safer, saner
Bribed the judge and then sat down
Ooh, you're, you're, you're too young
Writer(s): Harriet Ella Wheeler, David Gavurin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com