Paroles My finest hour The Sundays

My finest hour

When the world, it shows me up
My clothes, they show me up
I never knew this before
The finest hour that Ive ever known
Was finding a pound on the underground
When my words came stumbling out
Then I went tumbling out
Ive never been hit before
The finest hour that Ive ever known
Was finding a pound on the underground

And I keep hoping you are the same as me
And Ill send you letters and come to your house for tea
We are who we are, what do the others know
But poetry is not for me, so show me the way to go (home)

When the words came stumbling out of my mouth
And I went tumbling out (here, no no, no no)

But I keep hoping you are the same as me
And Ill send you letters and come to your house for tea
We are who we are, what do the others know
But poetry is not for me, so show me the way to go
Oh, Im going home

But Ill keep hoping you are the only one
Yes, and Ill send you letters, oh, wouldnt it be such fun
Oh, we are who we are, whatever the others say
But poetry is not for me, as much as Id like to stay
Oh, I just want to go home

Youre, youre, youre too young
Shouldve been, you, youre, youre too young
It shouldve been, you too, youre too, youre too young
It shouldve been, you, you, youre too young
You shouldve been... safe here
Bribed the judge and then sat down
Ooh, youre, youre, youre too young