Tears on the sleeve of a man
Don't want to be a boy today
I heard the eternal footman
Bought himself a bike to race
And greg, he writes letters
And burns his cds
They say you were something in those formative years
Hold on to nothing as fast as you can
Well, still
Pretty good year

Ah, pretty good

Maybe a bright sandy beach
Is going to bring you back
Back, back
Maybe not
So now you're off
You're going see america
Well, let me tell you something about america
Pretty good year

Ah, pretty good

Some things are
Melting now
Some things are
Melting now
Well
Hey, what's it going to take
Till my baby's alright?
What's it going to take till my baby's alright?

And greg he writes letters
With his birthday pen
Sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in
Lucy was pretty
Your best friend agreed
Well, still
Pretty good year

Ah, pretty good

Ah, pretty good year

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