Sunday Drivers Hate Yourself
My lovely ways have become so nasty
The things that you loved, those things once took your
fancy
Have you ever, in your mess, found a chance to hate
yourself?
There is not a grain of truth in anything you've been
doing
How you dare to say: "I'm alright, I'm in my isle, I
don't need you"
Listen to my voice, I know is not your choice, I'm the
same who
Listened to your voice, and know, was not my choice. How
I needed you.
We never thought we could ever get old
Get old or lost or to find new roads
Have you ever, in your mess, found a chance to hate
yourself?
There is not a grain of truth in anything you've been
doing
How you dare to say: "I'm alright, I'm in my isle, I
don't need you"
Listen to my voice, I know is not your choice, I'm the
same who
Listened to your voice, when it was not my choice. How I
needed you.
