Tears on the sleeve of a man

Don’t wanna be a boy today

Heard the eternal footman brought himself a bike to race

And Greg he writes letters and burns his CD’s

They say you were something in these formative years

Hold onto nothing as fast as you can

Well still pretty good year

Ah oh pretty good

 

Maybe a bright sandy beach is gonna bring you back, back, back

Hey not so now you’re off

You’re gonna see America

Well let me tell you something about Ameri, Ameri, Ameri, America

Pretty good year

Ah oh pretty good

 

Some things are melting now

Some things are melting now

Well hey

What’s it gonna take till my baby’s alright

What’s it gonna 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

Oh oh pretty good

Ah oh pretty good year