We took a winter trip to Washington DC in the early 90’s: my then wife, my stepson (who was 6 years old) and me. I remember sitting in a restaurant with them in Old Town when I first heard this song. I didn’t know what it was called or who did it, an experience common to people who grew up before the Internet was a thing. It was several years before I found out, and by that time, our marriage was on the rocks and the song seemed that much more apropos.
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 memories of the 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 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
Ooh here’s where the story ends
