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
Oh, 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
Here's where the story ends
Oh, 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 colorful 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
Here's where the story ends
Here's Where The Story Ends, The Sundays
To each and all, I cynically say: Enjoy.