há algumas canções dos sundays que têm este estranho efeito: apesar de serem melodias pop muito simples e fáceis de fixar (sei-as de cor), ainda hoje por vezes me surprendem por pormenores em que não tinha reparado. esta canção é mentirosa: neste caso, a história não acaba... e, devo confessar, também sou dos que ficaram apaixonados por harriet wheeler desde os anos noventa.




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 ends
people 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 ends

it'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 for
it'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, surprise

crazy 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 ends

it'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 for
oh 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 wrong

it's that little souvenir of a colourful year
which makes me smile inside
so i cynically, cynically say, the world is that way
surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise
here's where the story ends
ooh here's where the story ends