Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Harriet Wheeler
Harriet Wheeler
Vocals
David Gavurin
David Gavurin
Guitar
Paul Brindley
Paul Brindley
Bass
Patrick Hannan
Patrick Hannan
Drums
Lindsay Jamieson
Lindsay Jamieson
Tambourine
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Harriet Wheeler
Harriet Wheeler
Songwriter
David Gavurin
David Gavurin
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Sundays
The Sundays
Producer
Ray Shulman
Ray Shulman
Producer
Gail Lambourne
Gail Lambourne
Engineer
Alan Moulder
Alan Moulder
Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
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
[Instrumental]
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
[Chorus]
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
[Instrumental]
And the words came stumbling out of my mouth
And then I went tumbling out
[Chorus]
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
[Instrumental]
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
Bribed the judge and then sat down
Ooh, you're, you're, you're too young
Written by: David Gavurin, Harriet Wheeler
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