Faces

I guess I’ll have to try my hand

Nowhere else that I can turn to

I couldn’t run away if I wanted to

I wouldn’t want to anyway

I had something to say

Then changed my point of view

The world showed me what I had to do

I don’t want to play your game

To you, it’s a beautiful Sunday

To me, it’s a memory

I push down my opinion

Hope that you couldn’t see it in my face

I guess I’ll have to try my hand

Nowhere else that I can turn to

I couldn’t run away if I wanted to

I wouldn’t want to anyway

Do you get anxious, sad,

Stressed out, mad about the things that they say

When they call your name

To you, it’s a beautiful Sunday

To me, it’s a memory

I push down my opinion

Hope that you couldn’t see it

To you, it’s a beautiful Sunday

To me, it’s a memory

I hide my disposition

Hope that you couldn’t see it in my face